A Change of Plans
by LuvEwan
Summary: When an unexpected source of illness threatens Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon must fight to maintain his apprentice's life. 5 years pre-TPM COMPLETED
1. Default Chapter

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A Change of Plans

By LuvEwan

This was originally a response to a challenge in the _Obi-Wan Character Workshop_, created by **obi_ew** and **red_rose_knight**, with the subject of _Write a scene where Obi-Wan dies. _Twelve pages into it, I realized this story wasn't going where it was initially intended, so it's now just a short story…which doesn't mean that I've exactly strayed from that topic. You'll just have to wait and see. Moo hoo ha ha. 

Rating: PG-13

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Summary: An unexpected source of illness seriously threatens the life of Obi-Wan, while his Master fights to prevent tragedy. 

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Disclaimer: No recognizable characters/planets, etc. belong to me. I earned no profit from writing this….cuz let's face it, who would _pay _to read this? 

Time Period: Approximately five years prior to TPM

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Obi-Wan remembered flipping through his geography textbook, to the glossy images of lush, jade leaves and clusters of dew-dotted blooms, all beneath a breathtaking sky of flawless turquoise. As a young child, he was intrigued by two atmospheres, strikingly different from the mechanical, programmed Coruscant, and completely contrasting to one another. 

He wanted to explore the desert. 

And he wanted to travel through the looping vines and soft grounds of a jungle.

His passionate curiosity had not faded with the passing of time. Whenever an assignment led he and his Master to any landscape resembling a jungle, Obi-Wan could not help but satisfy his interest, drinking in every manner of flora and fauna as though they were the glittering, calm water of the streams that wove through the exotic undergrowth. 

Of course, few things were as ideal in person as they were when captured in a holographic image. The beauty was not always so captivating…

On Eume'Li, such a flattering adjective could in no way apply. Firstly, the palate of color was dulled considerably, for the earth had been drained of moisture in the midst of a terrible drought. The tops of the towering trees, once full and sustaining life of both animal and a variety of plump fruits, were now browned at their drooping ends. Only a few shriveled pits clung to the deteriorating base of their existence. 

The terrain was rough from the lingering dehydration, and most of the wild creatures, outside of the abundant, practically invincible insects, had set forth in search of a more plentiful habitat, leaving a largely deserted wasteland in their wake. Some could not abandon the instinct imbedded within their simple systems, and their open-mouthed carcasses were found too often as the Jedi team made their stoic trek. 

Obi-Wan had to school his features very quickly to prevent a grimace from reaching his face as he caught sight of another small, furry victim of the dire change in climate. 

Knight Ullo Tirr could not contain his disgust. A fairly seasoned warrior entering his third decade, Tirr was a valuable counterpart to the Master/apprentice pair. Within the halls of the Temple, he was regarded as a sage intellect and skilled duelist, well-liked by most. And, just as another rogue Jedi had once been known for, he was very hesitant to take a Padawan. He was completely aware that to be ascended to the level of Master, he would need to train an initiate to knighthood…for now, he could afford to wait. His wavy, obsidian hair reached his neck, and was drawn back in a tie. His olive-tinted face was morose, and he touched his chin, covered in dark bristles, as he often did when troubled. "Such massive loss. And worse, so much of it was preventable. If only the Eume'Li authorities had recognized the dilemma sooner."

"Indeed." Qui-Gon's agreement was illustrated with a short nod. His narrowed eyes swept over the dying scenery with typical Jedi keenness . "And the damaging effect on the animal population is twofold. If any species began to die out, it would leave their carnivorous predators without a source of food."

Possessing a renewed, sharpened perspective of the tragedy, the trio continued walking.

After a quiet moment, Obi-Wan turned to his teacher. The spiked ends of his Padawan-style, auburn hair were alight in the glare of the sun. Although he was nearing the title of senior apprentice, the shorn locks enhanced the naturally boyish composition of his face.

It was a somewhat misleading appearance, Qui-Gon regularly reflected, when given a free moment to do so. For all of Obi-Wan's sparks of humor and innocence, his protégé was also fiercely intelligent and as experienced in both combat and diplomacy as any member of the Order his age—and older. His countenance could offer a glimpse into his soul and emotion, if he chose to allow expression to transform it. Much of the time, he did not.

Today, there _was _a distinct cast of sorrow to his multi-hued eyes, eyes that shifted from cobalt to a turbulent gray as he spoke. "I don't understand how the government can warrant such a delay in action. Signs of serious distress must have been visible long before they filed for Disaster Recognition and Relief with the Senate."

Qui-Gon sighed heavily. "But, as you can easily tell," He splayed out his hands toward their empty surroundings, "we haven't much company on our journey, Padawan. Very few citizens choose to even visit this area of the planet, let alone make residence."

"Wouldn't a sector of environmentalists at least voice their concern?"

The Master shrugged. A dry branch cracked beneath his boot. "It depends. Just because the planet _has _an environment doesn't mean there's a gaggle of die-hards willing to defend it. The drought isn't strictly limited to the jungles, but there _are_ many sections of Eume'Li who are faring quite well under the circumstances."

"The death of a few thousand creatures and plants is of little consequence to city dwellers. Those who _do _give a care probably limit themselves to monetary donations—which isn't going to miraculously cause rain to fall from the sky. " Knight Tirr added, in his deep, rather unrefined Core accent. "Money _can _help, of course, but much more would be required than what citizens would give."

The values of the Eume'Li politicians had been steadily corrupted over the centuries, which was not overlooked by leading members of the Republic. When the entreaty for assistance was finally sent, it came under serious scrutiny. The Eume'Li government was not known for using credit grants wisely-or lawfully. The Council was asked to send a small group to investigate the situation. The amount awarded would be decided based on the mission report. 

Only a few hours into their observation, Qui-Gon was certain no foul play could be accused on the government's side. Their worry, however belated, was well-founded. 

They still had a significant stretch of ground to cover before they reached the capital, and rivulets of sweat were already running down their foreheads. Their backs were weighed down by the extra burden of canteens, and the abundance of death within the Force was leaving a heavy, melancholic shroud over the three Jedi. 

Qui-Gon glanced sidelong at his Padawan, who was staring fixedly at some point in the distance. Obi-Wan would never understand self-centered motivations, like those exhibited by the people of Eume'Li. The youth's heart ached for the suffering within the jungle, a jungle on a planet he had never stepped foot on before. 

Obi-Wan could not comprehend the citizens' mindset—a fact that Qui-Gon cherished. In a continuously degenerating society, even with the Jedi circle, genuinely sympathetic souls were hard to come by. The evidence of Obi-Wan and Ullo's compassion was comforting to the elder Jedi. 

Qui-Gon was piercingly sensitive to the specific Force readings of every world he visited. He wasn't ecstatic with the vibes he was receiving at the present. Eume'Li was lacking in harmony…

Which was probably why his apprentice had become especially introverted during the last few hours of their trip. 

It would do them all some good to stop for a brief rest, the Master concluded. When he suggested it aloud, his counterparts wordlessly followed him to a section of trees and shrubs. Characteristic of the struggling environment, the foliage was shrunken, ruddy and misshapen. But, to Obi-Wan's supreme gratitude, their chosen spot was secluded from the ever-prominent sun. 

Qui-Gon watched him sit with a weak stir of concern, but opted not to mention his disquiet. Instead, he pulled out a container of chilled water and took a long drink.

Across from them, Knight Tirr replenished his own parched throat, then slipped into shallow meditation.

Obi-Wan propped his back and head against a tree trunk. A few insects swirled around him and he batted the buzzing specks away with his hand.

Qui-Gon frowned, taking in the damp, shining skin of his Padawan—the boy had yet to so much as take a sip from his canteen.

"Obi-Wan, you shouldn't let moral troubles you have with a mission interfere with your health."

The young man lifted his head, his braid flipping up and eyes apprehensive, as though he were being chastised for something far more serious. 

Obi-Wan was prone to feelings of guilt, and he often expected the worst from himself. Qui-Gon immediately regretted speaking so abruptly, and handed him his water as a means of explanation.

With a pale flush, Obi-Wan accepted the cool beverage. "Thank you." He murmured softly, then swallowed two mouthfuls. 

Contented, Qui-Gon looked out at the dismal, death-marked panorama. He did not blame Knight Tirr for closing his eyes against such devastation. A single intake of the scene was robbing him of his much-needed emotional balance, and most likely was working overtime on his tenderhearted apprentice. He aimed to steer conversation to lighter topics.

"Summer festival is almost upon us."

"Hmmp. Yes, I'm fully aware."

The older Jedi cocked an eyebrow. "Are you not looking forward to the holiday?"

"Not exactly." Obi-Wan's wide grin clashed with his hopeless tone. "I wouldn't place seeing Master Yaddle in a bathing suit under the category of 'sweet anticipation'."

Qui-Gon swallowed the reflexive bark of laughter that sprung from the unusual mental picture. "Padawan! Show some respect!"

A bit surprised by the reaction, Obi-Wan sobered, wiping the sly smile (with utter difficulty) from his face.

"After all," Qui-Gon quietly added, "there's no rule saying you _must _participate in the pool-side activities."

The Jedi exchanged devilish, conspiratorial smirks, then settled in for a brief communion with the Force 

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The layers of consciousness, tainted by images of needless destruction, made thicker in the hours where talk was scarce and contemplation was rampant, had been stripped away. 

What was uncovered was not the blissful simplicity usually found in the intimate center of the energizing, unifying energy. 

Obi-Wan was bombarded by whispers.

Countless voices intertwined like a jumble of vibrating threads within his skull, tightening when he attempted to withdraw. Instead of pure, ethereal white, his inner periphery was smothered in dripping darkness.

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No. 

It isn't right.

Destiny CANNOT shift. 

The words were harsh, breathless-desperate. They crowded every crevice of Obi-Wan's unprepared mind.

He gripped for sanity through the confusion, reaching for that interior calm that guided him in harrowing situations. 

'_Destiny?' _He asked the foreign presence. 

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What is meant to be…will NOT be.

Obi-Wan's very core trembled as an icy shaft passed over him. _'What was meant to be?'_

A life force. Strength. Goodness—gone.

Obi-Wan struggled as a mourning such as he had never known engulfed his connection with the Force. Wailing sobs in high pitch sliced through him. 

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Gone. 

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Qui-Gon emerged from his meditation with a troubled face. Unease had colored his search for mental symmetry and, frustratingly, he could not pinpoint the cause of it. A bitter taste had crept from his mind to his throat. The graying Master swallowed.

"I take it you didn't acquire much satisfaction." Ullo observed, his bright emerald eyes flickering over the other Jedi. He sighed and rested his forearms on his knees. "I could say the same of my own sojourn into the Force. I've never had such a wobbly connection since my initiate days."

Qui-Gon's forehead deeply creased. At the edge of his sight, he could see Obi-Wan had managed a bit better than his elders, still in meditation position. 

But the discord he and Tirr had encountered was enough to rattle Qui-Gon's nerves. "The atmosphere is not a friendly one. I hope that is the lone culprit…and not something more sinister."

Tirr rubbed at the dusty ground with a booted foot. "But we can't rule that out, of course."

Qui-Gon couldn't help but move his gaze toward his quiescent charge. With careful hands, he took Obi-Wan's canteen and replaced it in his pack, his eyes never moving from the lax face. 

Ullo watched the humble gestures with a small, inquisitive smile. When Qui-Gon had resumed his place against the tree, he spoke. "I don't know how you do it."

The Master crossed his arms over his chest. His chiseled features were altered by genuine interest. "Do what?"

"That." He motioned at Obi-Wan with his head. "Life must be a constant cavalcade of worry for you."

"In what way?"

Tirr shrugged. "Being responsible for another life…I couldn't handle it. On a mission, I can protect lives. I mean, I can watch out for people, as I've been taught. But even a Jedi can be overwhelmed by such a prospect."

"Removing every other purpose, wouldn't you, at least, want the higher rank in the Order?" Qui-Gon wondered.

"Not every Jedi is meant to advance to the Council. As a plain, run-of-the-mill Knight, I have ample use in the field and the classroom. In addition," He released a breath, as though the very idea exhausted him, "not every Jedi is meant to be a parent."

A ghost of a smile touched Qui-Gon's lips. "I can't argue with that. I don't know the makeup of every Knight's psyche. All I know is that-sometimes-fear can masquerade as other things. Fear nearly prevented me from accepting Obi-Wan into my tutelage. I disguised it using a number of excuses: he was too angry, too unsure of himself…hell, even too smart." He chuckled lightly. "But, in the end, if you're very lucky, fate takes a hand when you refuse to offer your own."

Tirr's dark face was further shaded by the dying leaves that cohered to their branches by thin, twisting stems. "I wouldn't view Mastership as a lucky situation."

Qui-Gon was unmoved by the comment. "And some might not view perpetual Knighthood as the perfect life, either."

The tense talk might have continued, if not for Obi-Wan's shuddering gasp that immediately caught both Jedi's attention.

Qui-Gon crouched in front of his apprentice and gripped his arms. "Obi-Wan?" Alarm barely bled into his solid, authoritative tone. "Padawan, come out now."

As Qui-Gon gently, then with a bit of firmness, roused his student, Ullo silently confirmed what he had suspected of Jedi Masters. 

When Obi-Wan began to blink, Qui-Gon lifted his hands from the limp arms to the pale cheeks, bracing Obi-Wan's face. "Padawan?"

The object of his concern wet his lips and, in a slightly strangled voice, whispered "This mission…This mission's in trouble."

A notch below his usual diction, yet his simplistic words were a flawless description of the state of their assignment. 

Qui-Gon fished out the canteen and ordered Obi-Wan to drink the rest of its contents. Then, he glanced at Tirr, whose grave face matched the mood of his own predictions.

Obi-Wan blinked, hard, twice, trying to dispel the memory of his horrible meditative experience. He concentrated on the water, fresh and filtered of residue, clear and cool, sliding down his throat. His heart was racing; to slow its speed he drank faster, never stopping to consider the measure of illogic to his methods. The sun had shifted since he was last aware of the world around him, and beams belted down through the maze of husked leaves, onto his face.

"Are you alright?" Qui-Gon asked of him, a warm hand coming to rest on his knee. 

Obi-Wan nodded. "I'm fine, Master."

Qui-Gon regarded him with unconvinced eyes a moment longer, then retracted, standing and wiping his palms on his legs. "Then we better get on with it. We can make a few strides more before nightfall." Without a word from either Master or apprentice, Qui-Gon helped Obi-Wan to his feet, and wiped the gathering sweat from his gold-tinted forehead.

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Obi-Wan's fingers were curled around the cloth straps of his rucksack. He drummed them whenever a new wave of dizziness threatened to rob him of his remaining remnants of equilibrium. The jungle before him was fuzzy, the trees melding with the horizon in a strange melange that he couldn't blink into correctness.

It seemed that an infinity of eternities had passed since they resumed their journey. Just when he thought the night would surely fall, a patch of violent sunlight would hit him. His head was a mass of unadulterated ache, as was the small of his back. He took several cautious drinks of water, wanting to preserve his resources, but simultaneously needing rejuvenation.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to rationalize his body's behavior. At first, he blamed the weary grind of his temples and faulty vision on the pull of the jungle's incredible chaos. But he had never had such an acute, painful reaction to a mission before. Though the circumstances on Eume'Li were terrible, he knew he had witnessed terrors that were _exponentially _worse. 

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A life force…gone.

The messages confounded him. Was the spirit of this ruined place speaking to him, lamenting the massive demise of former splendor? 

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Strength. Goodness.

He supposed that could be supplied by the starved and homeless creatures of the jungle. With less complex thought processes, animals were closer to innocence than almost any other living sentient. They were part of the cycle of ultimate existence, giving their bodies to the soil—lending strength?

Obi-Wan leaned his head into his palm for a few, fleeting seconds. He wasn't presently equipped to handle such a vital issue. 

For once, he could set aside his pride and aspirations of independence…and wish that his Master would solve everything.

In the fog of that tired desire, he laughed inwardly-with no idea as to why. 

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The tip of the wretched molten ball finally sank below, and the first tinges of sweet night seeped into the sky. 

Qui-Gon had battled the stacking sense of doom for hours, and now that day was temporarily expired, he was anxiety-ridden, and not happy that they would need to stop for sleep.

"Perhaps we should walk through the night." He turned an untrusting gaze to the jungle. "I have a bad feeling about this."

Tirr nodded. "It's snowballed, hasn't it?"

Obi-Wan was busied trying to stifle the scream that spiked in his throat. _Through the night? _The arches of his feet felt like they were being stretched with every step. His stomach was _very _unsettled. He looked down at the battered ground, the damage worsened by the press of their gait—and he could relate. 

Yet, he said nothing. The sooner they reached the Capital, the sooner he could help prevent further turmoil in the jungle, and in his head.

Qui-Gon closed the small gap between them. "You've been blocking me, Padawan." It was not voiced as an admonishment…just a concerned statement.

"I apologize, Master." He swallowed. When he looked up, his Master's familiar face was largely a blur. 

Qui-Gon studied him for a split second, then stopped them both in their tracks. "A change of plans."

Ullo's visage was similarly drawn with concern. "What?"

"Obi-Wan." It was all he could say, all he could think. He wrapped an arm around his apprentice's shoulders and led him to the nearest tree. Above the thumping din of his heart, he asked, "Obi-Wan, what's wrong?"

He lowered himself and his Padawan cautiously to the ground, keeping a secure hold on the youth. "Tirr, get some water." He nearly shouted over his shoulder.

"Alright."

Obi-Wan blinked with furious rapidity. "Master, I—I can't see."

The youth had always had an inherently calm voice—the Master could hear the struggle against panic that was rising in it now. Qui-Gon cupped his head and rested it against his stalwart chest. "Close your eyes." He accepted the full canteen from Ullo, who had already unscrewed the lid. 

The Master touched the opening to Obi-Wan's lips. "Here, Padawan. Drink this."

Obi-Wan did, until his nausea prevented another drop, and he shivered. 

Qui-Gon supported his back on the shriveled trunk and curved his hand around Obi-Wan's head. With the other, he checked for fever. "He has a temperature." He informed Knight Tirr absently, his eyes never straying from the ailing form in his arms.

All Jedi carried generic, all-purpose medicinal syrup in their belts. Tirr pulled the cylinder of viscous liquid from his. "Qui-Gon?"

Qui-Gon considered it for a long moment. "Let's wait." He said at last. "He could be overheated. Loss of sight and queasiness are symptoms, as is fever." With two fingers suffering a small quake, he pulled Obi-Wan's braid back over his shoulder. Already, the apprentice was asleep, breathing shallowly. "I can discern no other sources of illness."

Qui-Gon sighed, taking in the jungle with unbridled suspicion, then looked to the dark-haired Knight. "You might as well take advantage of the break. I'll wake you if there're any problems."

Spent green eyes glanced at Obi-Wan. "Are you sure?"

"We'll need at least one alert member." Was his dismal reply.

Ullo slowly nodded. 

Once the man had settled in for slumber, Qui-Gon rested his chin on the crown of Obi-Wan's head and sought the Force for some kind of reassurance. 

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Knight Tirr garnered little respite from his bid for sleep, and after nearly an hour of restlessness, he sat upright. 

Jinn was unmoved from his previous position. Amid the darkness, he was solemn stone, stationary eyes trained to the young, handsome, bleached-white face. Carved into that stone were massive lines of worry, deep and cold as a chasm. 

"How is he?" Ullo inquired in a restrained voice.

Qui-Gon didn't look up. "I wet his hair. And his face. To bring the fever down…to dissipate the heatstroke…So far, he isn't responding."

Tirr's gaze raked from the pallid face of the Master to his protégé, sheltered in the cradle of an unrelenting embrace. A pang assaulted his chest. "Maybe you should try the medicine."

Qui-Gon nodded, and the Knight brought him the slim cylinder. 

"Obi-Wan." The murmur was hot, unsteady breath against Obi-Wan's ear. "Wake up, my Padawan." He stroked a cheek with the callused pad of a finger. "Wake up now. Just for a moment."

Obedient even in the haze of sickness, Obi-Wan stirred. Slits of brilliant blue peeked out from heavy lids. "Gone."

"You're with me." Qui-Gon's answer was intrinsic. "You're with me, Padawan. You're not going anywhere." He spent a minute brushing stray hairs and a new trickle of sweat from Obi-Wan's face. Once Obi-Wan was half-way awake, he sloshed the medicine around and removed the thin lid. "Padawan, I want you to drink this. You _need _to drink this. All of it. Alright?"

A shard of sallow moonlight reflected in the once-luminous eyes. "Alright."

Qui-Gon gradually poured the ruby syrup into Obi-Wan's mouth, pausing often to allow his fevered student a chance to swallow and regroup. After the last bit had been dosed, and Obi-Wan was drifting again, a fraction of the tightness in the Master's chest began to ease. 

Tirr watched, but said nothing, afraid to disturb the ensuing silence. 

He needn't have worried. The fragile quiet was shattered soon after, as Obi-Wan purged the meager contents of his stomach, including the freshly administered medication. The hoarse wretches were a haunting, jaw-clenching sound that roughly permeated the jungle's midnight version of peace. 

Meaningless platitudes followed, soft and affectionate. Qui-Gon wiped Obi-Wan's chin and mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "It's alright."

The jungle had been placed on a pedestal and set to spinning, Obi-Wan rationalized before he shut his eyes against the dizzying sight, shut his eyes and leaned against the support of Qui-Gon's shoulder. 

"Qui-Gon, maybe we should get moving again."

"No." It was barely a rasp, a feeble whimper in the air. 

But Qui-Gon heard. "I don't want to jostle him." He told Ullo. "If he can sleep, it could help."

Tirr visibly disagreed, but he nodded. They _were _at least another day away from the capital. If this was just a minor sickness brought on from the heat and exertion, it would be better to give Obi-Wan some time to rest. 

Already the Padawan had slipped into unconsciousness, his back against Qui-Gon's chest.

Illness seemed to have peeled away the years of battles and training; Obi-Wan Kenobi looked very young in the gray swirl of dark, temperate night. 

Qui-Gon's eyes were closed as well, but Tirr could sense the man was completely alert. The worn rim of his tunic was stained from the recent ordeal. He had taken the time to clean his apprentice—but not himself.

A more immature part of the Knight recoiled from the thought of nursing a vomiting apprentice. When he occasionally aided in the creche, that was when he handed the kid over to the Master, and washed his hands thoroughly—at least twice. He knew that not every duty of a Master Jedi was glamorous, but at the same time, he couldn't imagine a dignified member of the Order with, well, _puke _on their honored uniform. 

Yet here sat Qui-Gon Jinn, a living legend, with his regal manner and noble face, totally uncaring that several wet spots soiled his tunic. 

"You've convinced me."

Qui-Gon opened one eye. "Convinced you?" He whispered.

The heavily-maned Knight nodded. "I'd be a worthless teacher. What you do.." He shook his head with incredulity, "It confounds me."

Qui-Gon smiled wearily. "Sometimes, it confounds _me._"

Tirr frowned. "How?"

"I am constantly surprised by the level of devotion inside me. By the time Obi-Wan was my apprentice…" He sighed, "I was convinced all my energy, all my passion, was dead. I knew I would need to instruct him, but I never considered other areas that would need tending to." Tirr said nothing, but a compelled expression was steadfast on his face. 

Qui-Gon continued. "Or, should I say, I never let myself consider it. For the longest time, I kept myself almost totally separate from Obi-Wan."

"Is this some sort of intervention? You know, you impart your wisdom and I realize my follies?" A gruff chuckle. "I know everyone makes mistakes. I know that I _could _be making one by refusing to take a Padawan. But shouldn't I discover that on my own? Didn't _you _discover it on your own?"

"Partially, I suppose. But I give the majority of credit," He glanced down at the sleep-softened features of his student, " all of the credit, to Obi-Wan. He was a salvation.

"And if I'm wrong to tell you that, then I apologize. But I would give _anything _to have that time returned to me, to do it over again, with the blindfolds removed."

Tirr looked at the worry-creased face of Master Jinn, the haggard condition of his sleep-deprived body and the less-than-stellar appearance of his clothes. Then, he looked at his hand, the fingers weaving with Obi-Wan's.

Obi-Wan, who was rife with pain and possible disease, sleeping smoothly.

Ullo felt heat rise in his cheeks. Qui-Gon seemed not to have noticed-although Jedi Masters were especially adept at concealment. He knew it must be wrong of him to argue the very essence of the Master/Padawan relationship, when such a relationship was currently being tested in a patently unpleasant way. 

"He seems to have survived your bout with those isolation tendencies." He pointed out at last, hoping the optimistic ring in his voice was heard.

"Yes…" Eyes that matched the deep blue shade of the sky grew very still, and a thoughtful gleam was bright at their core. "He's almost twenty now…and has survived quite well."

Ullo smiled.

"But I know he carries those early days with him. And I know it makes him stronger." Even as the words left his lips, Qui-Gon was uncertain, giving a hasty observation of the hand that held his in a near-grip. _Does he think I would leave him ? _

"A Jedi garners his strength from the most unusual sources. It's what makes each individual in the Order unique." The other Knight half-quoted. "Your Obi-Wan is certainly unique. You're lucky to have him."

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow, with a prankish smile . "And yet, I might have denied my luck, had I not…"

"Enough!" Ullo exclaimed, in a mixture of amusement and exasperation. 

Qui-Gon shrugged. "If my advice is worth that little to you, then I will halt immediately." His expression settled into composure. "But, in all seriousness, I do wish that you'd consider what I've said."

A small smile tugged at the corner of the Knight's mouth. "Perhaps sleep will provide some clarity." He stretched out, laying his head on his travel pack."

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For you, at least. "Pleasant dreams." Qui-Gon murmured, then readjusted Obi-Wan in his arms and watched, alone in consciousness, a nocturnal, winged creature, evidently weak from drought, soar through the naked trees. 

It should have given buoyancy to his spirits, but he was lacking a significant measure of confidence as he entered his apprentice into a healing trance.

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I _really _don't like this. Anything that could help me in any way, style, word choice, story line, is supremely appreciated.

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LuvEwan 


	2. Chapter Two

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??? This was originally going to be a one-shot vignette, but it just pulled me in! Hope you're enjoying.

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Isaldaria Thank you so much! And your English sounded just fine to me!

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Confused11 Thank you so, so much for reviewing.

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Athena Leigh As always, thank you for your reviews. They always prove helpful. 

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SFGirl Well, the problem is I have a ridiculously large amount of free time, so I have a lot of stuff floating around here. Thank you for your review!

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KitKat I'm wary of OC's as well. Wary of writing them, that is. I didn't think that Ullo had much of a distinct personality, so your comments are very appreciated. Thanks for reading!

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CYN What can I say? There aren't really words for what your comment meant. That I would remind anyone even _remotely _of you is an enormous compliment…I just hope that doesn't mean I'm copying you in any way. Thank you so much for your review. 

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Obi-Wan opened his eyes, to find the worried face of his mentor shaded by the late hour's darkness. 

It had been a valiant attempt at deep-level Force healing, but neither were able to maintain the state, pushed upward to the surface of awareness by whatever was attacking Obi-Wan's body. 

The apprentice's hair was soaked with sweat. His lips quivered. "Master…" A fly-away sigh. "I think something is wrong with me."

Qui-Gon smiled at the elegance of the dulcet tone. "What's new, my ever-troublesome Padawan? Will a day ever pass when you don't add another gray strand to my hair?"

"I certainly hope not." A grin broke out on the flushed countenance. "It's what gives you your distinctive prestige."

Qui-Gon laughed heartily. "If you're looking for words of gratitude, you're not going to get them."

Obi-Wan smiled before he closed his eyes. "That's alright, Master. I know how you truly feel inside."

Qui-Gon stroked his damp cheek. _I pray so, Padawan. _He caressed the skin, seeing how colorless it had become in the few hours of Obi-Wan's discomfort. He waited for a beat, then "Obi-Wan?"

The recently rested eyes flew open again. 

"We need to move. Will you be alright if I carry you?"

A foolish question. Without hesitation, Obi-Wan nodded. He did not want to delay the mission any longer.

Qui-Gon quietly awoke Tirr, and they were back on the trail in a few minutes. 

() 

Their steps were much louder in the night, although there had not been much around them to rustle and make noise in the daytime. 

Obi-Wan slept with his hooded head on his Master's shoulder.

Qui-Gon was often tempted to lean his own against his apprentice's, but was afraid to shift his attentiveness from the jungle. 

Ullo yawned, stretching his muscled arms.

Qui-Gon glanced at him. "I know your rest was short, but did you gain any clarity from it?"

"All I gained was a lovely crick in my neck, to go with the pain in my a—"

"Very amusing. But, speaking of which, have you continued sensing that disturbance?"

"It's been mounting." Ullo affirmed grimly. "But it's very—anonymous."

"Yes." Qui-Gon said, then looked away when he realized he had nothing else to add.

They walked on, crushing the yellowed corpses of tropic leaves beneath their feet.

"Perhaps…" The Knight's finger strayed to his chin. "I don't know. Perhaps we're merely experiencing what any normal, non-Force sensitive being would. Obi-Wan's sick and we're surrounded by a huge, dying organism. And maybe these bad feelings we've been having," He shrugged, "Are a normal human response to those things."

"Well, it's not impossible." Qui-Gon concluded with a tired smile, his brows knit. "But it doesn't say much for the Order, a Master and Knight confusing the two like that."

Ullo chuckled softly beneath his breath. "Then they can censure us 'til the banthas come home.

"Look on the bright side—it'll give the lazy bunch something to do."

"True. The troll's especially dangerous when he's without diversion."

"Ha!" Ullo actually threw his head back, grinning wildly, a wavy tendril of black in his eyes. "At least we have one thing in common. You call him that too?"

Qui-Gon smirked. "I think it transcends all generations."

"Does he know?"

The Master laughed against the night's wind. "_Oh,_I sincerely hope so." After the shared mirth had faded, he regarded Ullo with serious eyes. "Am I then a betrayer of my peers…that I almost wish the little stump were here now?"

The younger man shook his head with a smile that played across half his mouth. "Nah."

"Hum." Qui-Gon looked forward and snorted softly. "I can't help but think he could diagnose Obi-Wan in a heartbeat."

"Don't focus on the negative." Ullo chimed in, eager to dispel the dense gray mist hanging over them. When Qui-Gon's expression remained unchanged, the Knight simpered and kicked at a pebble in the path. "Little stump? Now that's one I haven't heard."

Qui-Gon gazed up at the star-scattered sky, his voice carrying a faux reverence. "Ah, you're young. There's still time to complete that oh-so-important section of your education."

"Really? Considering Yoda's age, I'd think it'd take at least two lifetimes to learn them all."

"Well, Obi-Wan, for one, has always been a diligent student." Qui-Gon grinned. "I think he might've catalogued more of those nicknames than I have. Then again, he and Master Yoda have always had a special relationship."

"He can't stand the little demon?" Tirr deadpanned.

The Master chuckled, glancing at the face nestled against his neck. "No. But Master Yoda sees a potential in Obi-Wan that nobody else can. Not even me." He admitted. "Which means he expects a lot from Obi-Wan."

"And from you?"

Qui-Gon blew out a breath. "I suppose…A few of the nicknames have been a joint effort."

"I bet." Ullo worried on the inside flesh of his lip. "Qui-Gon, what made you pack up and get moving again?" He was almost reluctant to continue. "After everything was already settled in for the night?"

Qui-Gon sighed. The man was asking him the same question he was demanding of himself. And in both cases, the answer, the reasoning that throbbed at the nexus of his soul, eluded him . "I guess it's just, as you put it, a natural human reaction. Obi-Wan's ill, and I want him to receive medical attention as soon as possible."

"So your 'overheated' theory's out the window?" His Jedi counterpart assumed, looking down. 

"The window's in shatters." Qui-Gon murmured. "I couldn't place him in a healing trance…That's never happened before, even when he was close to coma. Overheating couldn't account for that." 

From the sharp edge of the refined voice, Ullo could tell the situation was wearing his superior's patience thin. He searched for some sort of comfort to extend, a few assuring words, a squeeze on the shoulder—but he only walked on, disarmed by the silence, and unable to locate whatever light was waiting at the end of the figurative tunnel he always heard so much about. 

() 


	3. Chapter Three

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()

Qui-Gon watched the first rosy flourishes of daybreak surface in the sky, and noted with great discontent the scarlet hue matched the ruddy blotches that brightened Obi-Wan's cheeks.

The Padawan had slept deeply through the remainder of the night. But he began to interrupt the other Jedi's companionable conversation with distressed moans and spastic, restless movements just as the sun made its slow ascension.

The Master tried to masquerade his increasing apprehension beneath the steady layer of calm he injected into his voice. "Obi-Wan? Are you alright?" He asked quietly.

There was no answer. And, in the same instant, there were no more steps.

Qui-Gon and Ullo's eyes locked. A silent, turbulent wave of dread rippled between them.

"Obi-Wan?"

The ominous reply was a dry, wracking cough.

"We should take a rest." Ullo proposed. Anticipating Qui-Gon's agreement, he quickly slipped off his robe and blanketed it over a square of the jungle floor.

"Thank you." With great care, Qui-Gon lowered Obi-Wan to his makeshift bed, then lingered at a crouching position beside him.

Knight Tirr glanced around the sun-soaked atmosphere, then looked down at Jinn. "How is he? Can you sense anything?"

Qui-Gon nearly cringed at the lilt of hope in Ullo's otherwise pensive tone. His apprentice was unresponsive to his calls; his fevered body resisted every Force scan. More troubling, they were far from civilization, and even farther from their assigned destination.

Against the deep brown of the Jedi robe, Obi-Wan's pallor was alarmingly pale, like the contrast of snow to desert. He trembled in reaction to a chill exclusive to him, so Qui-Gon kept his warm hands on the young face.

"Qui-Gon?"

With a start, Qui-Gon realized he had yet to address the Knight's inquiries. " He isn't doing well at all." Weaker, "And no, I can't sense a damn thing."

He felt a strong hand grip his shoulder. "We need to get to the capitol, Qui-Gon. Or at least somewhere he can receive medical attention."

"Do you know our coordinates?" Qui-Gon glanced up at him, hands remaining on Obi-Wan's damp, cool skin.

"Approximately."

"Then contact the Eume'Li authorities. Tell them to send healers. I mean _healers_. Not just one. Certainly they can reach us before we'd be able to reach them."

Ullo spared the quickest of moments to admire the collected demeanor of the Master. He knew some who, in the same situation, would either be in complete mission mode, worrying little for their student's comfort, or would be in pieces, unable to function with such control, such clarity.

And while it was obvious Qui-Gon was very concerned for Obi-Wan, he did not stray from reality.

It was an enviable trait that might just save the boy's life, Ullo reflected—then jerked a little, realizing that, subconsciously, he thought the stakes _were _that high.

Yet, following Qui-Gon's example, he would not examine that discovery, not while there was more prudent work to be done.

He reached for his travel sack and fished for the comm unit.

Qui-Gon heard him rustling and managed to release a pent-up breath. "Now it should only be a matter of time before help arrives." He told Obi-Wan, brushing his fingers across the long forehead, wiping sweat away as he did so. "They'll have better medicine than the liquid aspirin or whatever in the hells we have." He tucked the hood around Obi-Wan's head, then shook his own. "You shouldn't put me through things like this, Little One." With a fingertip, he grazed the dimple in the round chin. "I'm an old man. My heart can't take it anymore."

Ullo heard the weary words, and almost wished he hadn't.

He looked down at the opened rucksack that contained the comms. The communication devices were covered in water and sparked vibrant blue. He deduced, without much deliberation, that a canteen lid had been left loose when placed in the pack.

Over the years, the Knight had visited countless planets, and gleaned a bit of the more colorful foreign words from each.

He put that knowledge to use now, cursing continuously and silently while attempting to salvage the shorted-out keys to their rescue.

()

__

Cold.

Obi-Wan came to consciousness sluggishly, with the single thought at the forefront of his clouded mind.

__

Cold.

Where am I…and why would anyone keep it so Sithly cold?

Feelings of confusion soon gave way to the raw sensation of pain. Bone-deep aches ground in his back, legs and neck.

With a frown, he wondered what strenuous physical labors he had undertaken to garner such consequence to his body. He flexed his hands and feet gingerly, eyes shut.

"Obi-Wan?"

Those eyes, the whites tainted by thin red veins, struggled open.

Qui-Gon was smiling down at him, the sharper edges of his leonine features softened by Obi-Wan's blurred periphery. "At last you decide to wake up."

Obi-Wan tried to smile through the shivers. "I think…" He took a feeble inhale, "I think I made the wrong decision."

Qui-Gon's relieved expression sank. "Padawan, you're trembling like a leaf."

"Qui-Gon?"

Ullo's urgent voice broke through the cavern of worry surrounding them. The Master reluctantly turned to him.

The man's olive-toned skin looked waxen in the glare of the sun. His eyes were wide, and rimmed with a dark dread.

Qui-Gon's heart stalled. "What is it?"

Ullo swallowed thickly. "The comms. Some water from the canteens spilled in the rucksack." He watched horror drain the normal effulgence from Qui-Gon's piercing gaze.

It nearly killed him to go on.

"They're shot. All of them-they've totally malfunctioned."

Qui-Gon bowed his head, a curtain of graying chestnut concealing his face.

"I-I'm sorry, Qui-Gon." It was all he could think to say.

The man shook his head. "It's not your fault." The monotone stood flat in the air.

At that moment, Tirr would have agreed with Obi-Wan: suddenly, the jungle was very cold.

For the trio of Jedi, things did not improve, and the flawless sky seemed in great contradiction to the turmoil beneath it.

Obi-Wan's spiking temperature was helped none by the absence of clouds and the accidental depletion of much of their water supply. His limbs were needled with ache, and the attack on his muscles repelled the healing energies of the Force. Even a feather-light touch was enough to send him into near-hysterics.

Qui-Gon sat with his apprentice's head cradled in his lap, soothing him with whispered endearments when he began to make listless, writhing movements.

Knight Tirr had taken to pacing, focusing on possible solutions to their dilemma, instead of the pain-laced moans that rose in the dried carcass of the jungle.

Eventually, with his temples pounding and a fine snake of sweat trailing down his forehead, he stopped. "Qui-Gon, we have to get moving again. This won't solve anything."

"He needs to rest." The Master replied. "I think…I think he's in agony when I have to carry him."

Ullo ran fingers through his sweat-matted hair. He knew delicacy was required in these types of situations, but such niceties could pretty much be abandoned when you were baking in heat, and smelled worse than a decaying bantha. "He's in agony _now_, Qui-Gon." He saw the quick tension in the broad back, forced himself to go on. "But at least if we're moving, we'll be getting him to a hospital."

Qui-Gon's jaw line was parallel with his shoulder. He looked not at Ullo, or Obi-Wan, but at the shriveled, faded plants beyond.

Although, Ullo wasn't sure the man was actually _seeing _much of anything.

"He's cold, with a fever. He's in pain, but it's made worse if I touch him. He should be laying still, but you say I should move him." A ragged sigh, and slow shake of the head. "Alright."

Ullo wanted to feel the same sterling veneration for Jinn as before. After all, the man was making an incredibly difficult choice, between what would give his charge temporary or permanent relief. And he was doing what was right.

But the young Knight experienced a strange melancholy as he led the way once more.

These last hours had strengthened Tirr's belief that he was not meant to hold such responsibility. He could not be the one to witness the suffering Jinn had to, the suffering of someone so dear to his heart, all while keeping a (mostly) cool head.

How could it possibly be worth it?

()

When Qui-Gon Jinn was a first year apprentice, he fell from a high branch and broke his leg. Because he had sneaked away from the main group at the Jedi retreat, he was not discovered for several excruciating hours.

For a long while, the Master had considered that to be the single most painful experience of his life.

He had never hoped for another situation to rival it.

But on Eume'Li, that thought was obliterated. Obi-Wan's every wave of discomfort was felt through their connection. The Force was being increasingly unkind to them on this dreadful mission, for although he could not relieve his apprentice through it, he could sense the effects of Obi-Wan's mysterious ailment through its powerful channels.

He would gladly have switched positions with his Padawan in an instant. But such options were not open to him, and he could spare no more time to lament that frustrating fact.

Knight Tirr had offered his own Force strength to bolster his Jedi comrade, but it was all for naught. Their joint efforts were deflected like bolts off a saber.

"This is infuriating as hell." The heated man hissed, when he could hold back no longer.

Qui-Gon flicked his eyes over at Ullo, but said nothing.

Ullo looked down. "I'm sorry if I'm stating the obvious. But we're not exactly able to meditate on this, are we?"

Obi-Wan gave a muffled cry and Qui-Gon flinched. He ran a hand down the tense back. "No." He whispered in response, his brow furrowed. "There's _nothing_ we're able to do."

Ullo felt a sharp pang rush viscerally through his chest. "That's not entirely true." He smiled. "You're doing more than anyone else could."

"A proper physician could do a hell of a lot more." Qui-Gon mumbled.

"But a physician couldn't do _that._" He motioned at the calming techniques the Master was using to quiet his charge. "Not even the troll could do what you do."

A half-smile cracked Qui-Gon's stony exterior, quickly erased. "And yet it accomplishes so little. He remains in full exposure of the pain."

"Do you expect to be a perfect, miniature god, with miraculous healing powers?"

Qui-Gon appeared almost offended by the incredulous inquiry. "I need to be. For him."

Ullo glanced away, wetting his chapped lips.

"Does that scare you?"

He turned to the Master. "What?"

Qui-Gon's eyes were unmoving, harsh jewels awash with melted ice. "Does that scare you?" He repeated, slower.

The Knight's smile was born of confusion. "Why would it scare me?"

"Because. You're not convinced you _shouldn't _be a Master. It would take more than a little vomit to secure a decision like that."

"You're seeing what isn't there, Master Jinn." Ullo retorted, adopting an assertive tone. Since when did a near stranger know better his intimate, inner beliefs than _he _did? "Just because you're a renowned Jedi doesn't mean your opinion is indisputable. I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that I'm not built to be a Master. It isn't in my makeup."

Qui-Gon's laugh was edging on acrid. "So you blame it on genetics."

"NO. I don't _blame _it on anything. I just know I don't belong in that section of the Order. I don't have those instincts."

"And yet you covered the ground with your cloak for Obi-Wan before I could even remove my own. No one asked you to do that."

"That was a common courtesy, plain and simple. You don't have to think about something like that."

"You know what word would fit that description?" Qui-Gon asked.

Ullo decided to indulge the man, after the hours of torture and exhaustion he had endured thus far.

"Instinct." The Master finished. "I recognize it in you."

"Really? Well, excuse me if I choose to dismiss that as a side-effect of too much sun and not enough sleep."

"It _does_ scare you."

Ullo exhaled in a huff. "In what way?"

"You're worried that you could come to care this much for another human being, that you would strive to do things well beyond your power to comfort that person." His voice lowered with a faint quivering of emotion. "That you could feel anger that doesn't vanish with a touch of the Force."

The Knight could hear his heart pounding in his ears. "If I'm not placed into such situations, what does it matter if I fear them or not? I'm not foolish enough to accept that kind of aggravation willingly."

Qui-Gon regarded him silently for whole minutes, then "You know what they say about high risk." He laid his palm over Obi-Wan's head. "High return."

()

Obi-Wan didn't know where he was.

He _had _been safe, within the gentle confines of his teacher's arms. But gradually, without his notice, the Padawan had drifted from that shelter, into the open seas of unusual consciousness.

Around him, trees drooped, willowy branches weighted down with muck and tar. Yet, these trees were not of the tropical variety that would populate a jungle. They were relatively young, with thin, pale trunks.

Above him, the sky was a dismal mesh of gray and black. As he inspected it closer, peering up with eyes not located externally, that dark sky began to vibrate.

Obi-Wan's breath was trapped in his throat. Insects? Yes, insects crowded the heavens. A collective buzz seeped into his thoughts and he shuddered. The louder the din grew, the more intense the pain, the lower the branches sank.

The first, bleached fingers of panic stretched out toward him, and Obi-Wan turned away from the huge clot of antennae, black bodies and translucent wings. But the water beneath the apprentice was now a mirror reflection of the sky.

And he could not escape the crawling pit.

()

A sharp inhale jolted both Jedi from their inner dialogues.

Obi-Wan gasped for air, an arm flailing, fingers entangling with Qui-Gon's hair.

"Obi-Wan!" The wide-eyed Master sought to control the mindless, spasm-like movements. Already a ragged laceration was cut across his cheek.

Ullo stood at his side, unsure what to do, focus glued to the white face. A strong curse slipped through his lips.

Qui-Gon wasn't so stricken. He placed Obi-Wan on the ground and held his hand steady over the hot forehead. With his other hand he covered Obi-Wan's heaving chest, in the place where the heart lay beneath. His voice was not strangled with fear. He spoke as though they were engaged in a casual conversation. "Padawan, wake up."

Tirr took a tentative step forward. "Qui-Gon, it looks like-"

"He can breathe." He replied knowingly. "He's caught in a dream." But, despite his confidence, Qui-Gon gazed down at his protégé with ever-multiplying concern. "Obi-Wan, you're alright. Wake up and see."

For a score of minutes, neither of the men uttered a syllable. For although the Padawan could indeed breathe, they currently did not share that ability.

When red-washed blue peeked out from swollen eyelids, Qui-Gon was the first to react, pulling Obi-Wan from the grit and brush, supporting him with an arm around his shoulders.

Ullo discovered that he was grinning like a moron. _And he isn't even my friggin' apprentice! _He wiped at his eyes, then crouched down beside the pair.

Qui-Gon brushed the debris from Obi-Wan's face and cupped his hot, flushed cheek. "Obi-Wan?"

The youth blinked twice. The touch of his Master's rough fingers still hurt beyond belief, but Obi-Wan decided, without a large amount of thought, that he would rather tolerate that pain than be apart from the man. He had learned at an early age that sometimes human contact was the most effective remedy, which had been proven countless times since.

This would be the most trying test yet, Obi-Wan noted miserably.

"Obi-Wan, can you tell me what happened?"

The Padawan met the eyes of his mentor. He refused to cringe at the bleakness he read there. "Remember…when I said the mission was in trouble?"

"Yes."

"I," Obi-Wan squirmed as the pain jolted through him, "I think I was mistaken."

Tenderly, he was rested against the stalwart chest, for he could sit upright no longer.

"What do you mean, Padawan?"

The question was delivered in a soft, restrained tone…which only validated Obi-Wan's belief, that something was seriously wrong with him. His Master was not treating him as an equal, but as a child.

Obi-Wan did not resent it in the least.

"I—When I meditated, I couldn't connect with the Force." He filled his lungs enough to continue. "And I heard all these voices, telling me a life force would be destroyed. That strength and goodness would be gone. I thought it was…a spirit from the Force, mourning the losses in the jungle."

Qui-Gon nodded intently. "That's what it must be, Obi-Wan. The echoes of death from the drought. That explains it."

Ullo shivered. While the Master vehemently denied his student's inferences, it became more evident what the cryptic messages truly meant. The Knight laid his hand on Qui-Gon's arm. "Qui-Gon."

But the man would not turn from Obi-Wan. He shook his head.

Tirr swallowed and galvanized his resolve. "Qui-Gon. Look at me."

The Master tore his eyes away, and they were beating with ire as they took in Ullo's sympathetic face.

"Don't argue with him, Qui-Gon. The Force has been so distant, but you can _feel _the truth in what Obi-Wan says. I can feel it, too. I don't want to, but I do." He compressed his lips. "You said you have to be miraculous for your apprentice.

"Were you lying?"

Qui-Gon's eyes narrowed. "Of course not." He ground out.

"Then do what needs to be done. That includes accepting that Obi-Wan's in great danger here.

"Greater than we thought." Ullo added quietly.

Qui-Gon took a shaky breath, looking down. A shaft of severe sadness crossed over the craggy surface of his visage. His eyes squeezed shut. Then he rested his forehead against Obi-Wan's.

"You must hold on for me, Padawan. Don't allow your attention to waver from that."

"Yes, Master." Obi-Wan leaned in. "I won't, Master."

()


	4. Chapter Four

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()

It is a known fact that, when it comes to promises, the statement is far easier to complete than the fulfillment of said statement which must follow.

For Qui-Gon, it meant he had to keep his eyes to the beaten, lifeless path, while his heart would not budge from its treasured point of focus.

For Ullo, it meant he had to stifle the worry that jabbed into him whenever he dare glimpse at the fragile and fevered Kenobi—for he had silently swore to himself that he would _never _prove Qui-Gon Jinn right, by surrendering to the intrinsic emotions that were breeding deeper, serious thoughts. Thoughts that were then imbedded in the private, intimate corners of his mind, where pale denials could not completely chase them into oblivion. He did _not _want this responsibility any more than he wanted to carry a thousand pound boulder on his shoulders, a weight that Ullo could see crushing down on Jinn.

And for Obi-Wan, the strength needed to uphold the pledge he made to his Master was teetering on the line between extremely difficult and impossible. He thought that his will alone would be enough to endure the sweating, the shaking, the all-encompassing pain. His will, and the dominating will of his Master. Obi-Wan had witnessed the incredible power the man wielded. He held more faith in that than almost anything else in the Universe.

Qui-Gon's legendary vigor had been reduced to what he could offer with his hands and voice. He rubbed Obi-Wan's back and murmured in his ear. But his reach could not extend to whatever infected the young, slender body.

That knowledge was becoming the Padawan's adversary. If his own Master could not successfully combat the pain, how then could Obi-Wan, a mere apprentice?

In a different arena, in a less intense, stressful time, Obi-Wan might have viewed the conundrum as some sort of test, put forth by Qui-Gon, or even the Force itself. Obi-Wan's greatest weakness had always been the fine layers of self-doubt that permeated his every action and thought, the cause of his early bouts with anger. The root of the frustration that had come so close to costing him his life as a Jedi and his relationship with his Master. Now, was that frailty returning, to jeopardize his very survival?

Obi-Wan closed his eyes, resting his head in the warm nook between Qui-Gon's neck and shoulder.

Wouldn't that be a fitting end, if rather predictable. _Death by lack of confidence._

He would have laughed at such a notion, if it were not veering so uncomfortably towards truth.

A swelling ache crawled up his leg muscles then and he cried out, the reflective musings fleeing.

Qui-Gon gripped Obi-Wan's hand and brought it close to his mouth, so the stirrings of breath thawed clammy fingers. "Shhh..It's going to be alright, my Padawan."

In the simplistic mindset and desperation of his pain, Obi-Wan believed every optimistic word, his recent introspection already a faded memory. It was better to allow deception, than labor under the clotted vapors of foreboding. "H-Hurts."

Qui-Gon had to briefly shut his eyes, then spoke with a firm, assuring inflection. "I know, young one. I know. But each step takes us closer to the capital, nearer to help."

It was not said to help _him, _but nevertheless Jinn's comments had soothed Ullo. For whether or not everything _would _be alright, their journey would bring them to the Eume'Li capital. Albeit slowly, due to the incapacitated apprentice.

That was another reason to reject this idea of taking on a student, Tirr realized with a hint of relief. _If I were by myself, I would've reached the destination by now._

Qui-Gon's ministrations did not temper the groans and breathless gasps. Obi-Wan twisted in the unmoving embrace, trembling with cold and, at the same time, quite overheated.

It was becoming acutely clear that nothing would undo the coils binding Obi-Wan to the pain. His body could not be cured through the collective, fervent wishes of the Jedi.

But the mind—that was something different.

The mind could provide its own brand of release. The mind could provide _distraction._

"Obi-Wan, do you remember Halli-Va IV?"

Knight Tirr's eyebrow lifted involuntarily. He was tempted to believe the heat had finally robbed Jinn of his sanity.

Obi-Wan's hand tightened around his Master's arm as a new, stinging deluge made victim of his taxed system…but the head, however weakly, nodded.

Buoyed by the response, Qui-Gon went on, in a husky whisper. "Do you remember how we helped the citizens, and they were so grateful, and on the night of their mass celebration, they sang that song to us?"

Obi-Wan blinked, searching his memory. It took longer than usual, but he touched on the recollections, wiped away the dust.

Halli-Va IV.

The natives called it HaVa for short.

They wore shining purple cloths, turbans, around their heads. In the light, they gleamed jade and golden. Qui-Gon had tied Obi-Wan's for him, and Obi-Wan attempted to tie Qui-Gon's, but could never get the formation correct.

Qui-Gon had teased him for the remainder of the mission for that, pointing out that Obi-Wan knew the less-complicated series of loops and weaves required to secure a Jedi tunic.

They attended various mediations. When a compromise was decided, the traditional HaVa celebration was quickly planned and beautifully executed.

He and his Master sat at a special, designated table, were served various HaVa delicacies.

Then the citizens clustered around them, and in sweet, high notes, sang a song in half-Basic, half foreign tongue.

Obi-Wan could never have forgotten. "Yes."

Qui-Gon smiled, and looked down with encouraging eyes at his charge. He wiped a trail of perspiration from Obi-Wan's cheek. "Will you sing it with me?"

Ullo was bewildered. Surely Qui-Gon _had _lost his rationality, to think that the kid could withstand the strain on his body _and_ carry a tune! He was bordering on anger when he considered the thoughtlessness of the request.

"I…don't…the first words…"

Qui-Gon hushed him with a meaningless murmur. "That's alright. I remember them." He lifted his head, to watch the path again. "I'll start.

"K'la mana tu

The heart twined with soul

F'la terman ha zu

From empty to whole."

It was a lovely, graceful melody, made all the more stunning by the Master's cultured vocals.

Obi-Wan swallowed. "C-Can't."

Ullo bit the inside of his lip, the thunder of his chest echoing in his ears.

Qui-Gon massaged circles into Obi-Wan's back. "You can, Padawan. You only have to believe that you can."

"Mmmph." He gulped. "I…"

"Sing with me, Padawan." Qui-Gon urged.

And, in a feeble, broken voice, Obi-Wan did.

The words ribboned through the thick, dismal atmosphere, flawless music without the strumming of an instrument, hope lacing the lyrics, as Master and apprentice sang out the euphonious minstrels.

In the limits of Jedi training, one did not often hear such talent from their peers. Ullo had not the slightest inkling that either Jinn or Kenobi could perform so perfectly, in tune with one another immediately, never wavering from the chosen key.

Now and then, Obi-Wan would jerk or ball Qui-Gon's tunic in his hands, but his center remained mostly on his Master's voice. He could feel the rhythm in the vibrations of the man's neck and chest, and strove to emulate it.

When the song was finished, Qui-Gon didn't skip a beat, and began it again.

As the harmony went on, Obi-Wan's voice softened, until he was silent, and his eyes fluttered shut.

Qui-Gon sang a few bars more, then ghosted a kiss across the sweaty temple.

Ullo blinked away the gathering moisture in his emerald eyes and ran a hand over his lengthening, dark beard. "I shouldn't doubt you. You know how to be damn miraculous for him."

The Master showed a small smile. "I thought it was the other way around." He sighed and squinted at the sun-dappled horizon. "How much longer, do you think?"

"Half a day, maybe. Or less." Ullo replied. "If we don't stop anymore."

Qui-Gon nodded. With any luck, now that Obi-Wan was granted some reprieve in sleep, they would not need to delay their progress again.

Ullo rolled up his tunic sleeves. Dampness saturated the material beneath his arms and around his neckline. He was tempted to remove the top half of his clothing, but didn't want to gamble with the sizzling effects of the Eume'Li sun.

He glanced sidelong at Jinn, whose hair was dripping into his face. Now that things had settled, past events resurfaced in his thoughts. Guilt surged inside him. "I'm…I'm sorry, Qui-Gon."

"For what?"

"I might've acted harshly back there. About that apprentice thing."

Qui-Gon actually chuckled. "Don't apologize. Really. I only wish I would have been so kind to those who pestered me to take on a Padawan."

"Is that so?" Ullo inquired with a combination of interest and well-disguised glee.

The man sighed heavily. "I was younger then. Not as young as you, but young enough to be terribly brash and obstinate."

Tirr's voice was weary, a little self-loathing. "I think it comes with the territory."

"Yeah." Qui-Gon agreed. "But my behavior transcended even that. I'm not some saint, 'preaching', as you've said, to the disbeliever. I can remember that mindset, the two sides warring within you."

"You know, I've never once admitted to wanting an apprentice, Qui-Gon. A Jedi is not to make _assumptions_."

"But," Jinn countered, "A Jedi can comment on what he senses. I'm not bending the truth here, to recruit another Knight for the League of Masters or anything ridiculous like that. I would not put the success of an innocent child on the line to satisfy any hidden agenda. And I would not say what I've said to you lightly."

Ullo paused, then nodded. "I believe that." He turned his gaze to the tangles of the jungle. _And that's even worse._

()

The pinnacle of afternoon was painted in smoldering hues of orange and burnished red, dripping from the unblemished sky and dying the grounds a rich sienna.

In those intensely hot hours leading into dusk, talk was swallowed into a dry, cracking well, and the lost canteens were sorely lusted after.

The sweat had become a sticky second skin over the men, covering every inch.

Ullo would have gladly lopped off his arm with his own saber for a few minutes under the cool, clean spray of a shower. But the rational elements of his training promptly took dominance over that more self-centered inclination.

Given the chance to have a desire granted, the Knight knew there was something of far greater importance to pray for.

Qui-Gon had gradually increased his pace, so that he took slight lead over Tirr as they walked the long trail. The bundle in his arms had become still, no longer subject to convulsive frenzy or the jittery turn of wrists and ankles. Even the sharp gasps and weak, weepy moans had vanished from the portentously dim soundtrack of their mission.

Qui-Gon wanted to be comforted by the developments. Such deep rest could mean Obi-Wan had reconnected with the elusive healing Force, and the unconsciousness was a mending one. But the cautious cynic in him held to the uneasy feelings both he and Tirr had experienced—the threat to Obi-Wan was very much alive, was darting, moving, even as the apprentice was cradled limp against his Master's chest.

"He must be tired." Ullo observed.

"I'm sure he is." Qui-Gon agreed. "As are we all. But I think it's more than that."

Ullo did _not _want elaboration, yet once again he had to bow to obligation. The Knight heaved a breath. "How much more?"

"I can't say exactly. But he's done a total turn-around in a matter of hours. He's barely moved." Qui-Gon shook his head, shifting out of the normal reserve he displayed. "This is disturbing me more than I can coherently describe."

Ullo traced the line of his heavily bristled chin. "You're not alone."

To both Jedi's surprise, Qui-Gon's lips turned in a faint apparition of a smile. "No, I'm not. And I must say, Knight Tirr, I'm thankful for that."

Ullo scratched the back of his head. "I find that difficult to believe."

"Why?"

"Well, for starters, did you appreciate the massive malfunction of your only source of communication?" Ullo laughed without humor. "I don't think I have to remind you that Obi-Wan could be surrounded by medics in a sick bay by now if it wasn't for the leaking canteens."

"And if it wasn't for my accepting this assignment, then Obi-Wan would be safe on Coruscant about now…or could be in any number of situations, on any number of planets." Qui-Gon's eyes held an earnest wisdom. "Ullo, you can't blame yourself for an accident, no more than I can blame myself for Obi-Wan's illness.

"I know, at a strange angle, that it's easier to accuse yourself. If I thought it _was _my fault, it would make…it would some amount of sense. There'd be explanation.

"But it isn't my fault. Or yours.

"The conscience is the ultimate casualty of fate. We're here because the Force brought us here. Beating yourself up about a loose lid is not only silly…it's harmful. Obi-Wan is very sick, without a determinable cause. Labeling yourself as that cause will not cure him."

Ullo smiled, more than a tad embarrassed. "I wonder what the apprentices would do, if they knew how often their 'elders' wished they could skip the difficult years, and know everything at once."

Counterfeit horror marked Qui-Gon's features. "I don'twant to begin to consider the implications of _that._"

It was almost a forced lightness, the lilts in their conversation, for there was definitely a subject that neither wanted to consider the implications of.

()


	5. Chapter Five

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Elusive capture Thank you for your wonderful comments. It surprises me that people enjoy my fics, since I'm not really an expert on SW or anything. I don't watch the old movies at all! But thanks again, and I'm glad you're enjoying

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Name1 Thank you!

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Ewan's girl Jeez, most everyone at the other site I post at thinks I'm out to kill him too! I'm glad you got your computer fixed.

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Shanobi Thank you. You make me blush so much.

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Athena Leigh I'm very proud that people are liking it. Thank you!

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Kynstar Oh no! Not more talk about the OC fic! Aaaaahhh! Hee hee.

()

Nightfall was whispering its approach, in the mellowed temperature and slight breeze that rustled through the dried-out leaf hollows, creating a low, sharp whistle.

Ullo shivered, although the air was nowhere near frigid. "I can't help but think we should've arrived by now."

Qui-Gon drew his gaze momentarily from his apprentice's colorless face. "Perhaps we've miscalculated." His forehead creased. "But this _is_ the correct path. We couldn't have misread the map's coordinates."

Ullo nodded, but the assurances didn't lift his shoulders. He let out a wandering sigh. "It's one thing or another here, isn't it?" His finger roamed the bristles of his chin. "It's almost as if…as if the jungle doesn't _want _us to leave."

"Almost." Qui-Gon nearly concurred. "But that thought is of little use to us. It only adds fear and intimidation where we need to be focused."

"Right." The Knight murmured. It was simple to discern where the Master's focus lay, for his clouded blue eyes adhered once again to Obi-Wan.

That was fine, Ullo decided. Someone surely needed to keep close watch over the young student.

Just as someone needed to monitor the movements and threats of the jungle. That _could _be considered an error on Qui-Gon's part. With his attention trained solely to Obi-Wan, he was also leaving himself vulnerable to attack.

__

An attack from what? A branch? A decomposing carcass? Ullo's eyes circled their surroundings. Although their situation was dire, they were blessed with no interference from the ravenous, fanged creatures that usually skulked in the shadows and thick brush.

He knew it was a bit childish to believe the jungle was somehow tightening its shriveled arms around them, and pulling them back from the sanity and sanctuary of civilization. But after hours in the heat, bound up in the tension of unknown illness and inner conflict, conspiracies were not so ridiculous a notion.

It was easier to have faith in that, than believe it was all the workings of the Force, and that the beloved entity would be the one to restrain them from the healers who would save Kenobi. He couldn't understand why it would brim the kid with light, so much that it practically glowed in his eyes, only to extinguish it so prematurely, and in such a cruel manner.

The Force _couldn't _be the culprit in this, Qui-Gon swore, his eyes caressing Obi-Wan's features while his touch could not. Its power had been strangled by the demon that invaded his Padawan's body. The disease was resistant against the Force.

And it would be fruitless to rage against the Force, for allowing itself to be blocked.

Qui-Gon always favored mantras that addressed the neutrality of life; nothing was strictly fair or unfair.

But now, he didn't care in the least if his character was ruined by hypocrisy. This WAS NOT fair. As a Jedi, he had been taught that healing skills could be a saving grace when medical attention was out of reach. He was taught that he could protect those under his charge.

There were _never _any warnings that someday, he might be holding the dangerously still form of his apprentice, and unable to help him in any way. The constants of his life were in ruins, so what did it matter if he stomped his beliefs into the dust?

Qui-Gon felt his body begin to tremble, and it didn't ease when he took in Obi-Wan's beautiful face, so much of the familiarity leeched by fever.

A hand fell to his shoulder. He did not turn to see the owner of it. He didn't _want _to see.

That didn't hamper Knight Tirr, who could feel the heated currents sheeting off the Master. "Anger isn't the answer, Qui-Gon. You know that. It's never been a cure."

"Because there is no cure, is there?" Qui-Gon raised his head, but his voice remained in the sorrowed doldrums. "For him."

"We don't know that."

"Because we don't know _anything._"

Ullo waited for the seething comment's intensity to settle, then "Perhaps this is a test. For you, for me." Quieter, "For Obi-Wan."

Qui-Gon snorted. "I think I'm tired of being examined."

Ullo felt an accord with the Master, whether he liked it or not. He didn't mention it aloud, fearing his words would become counterproductive. "But we can't choose when the tests come. Or how many of them there are. We can only deal with them to the best of our abilities. How else do we learn?"

"If Obi-Wan is required to suffer, I would rather be denied the lesson."

Ullo breathed out, loudly. "All this mission, you've been telling me how much I want an apprentice. How much I _need _an apprentice." He shook his head with exasperation. "But if _this _is what having an apprentice means, you've killed your own argument."

Qui-Gon stared at him for a few seconds. Heavy shadows clung around his eyes. "Tell me, Knight Tirr. What have you to lose?"

Ullo's brows knit. "What?"

"At this moment, what do you have to lose? What's at stake?"

A little confused, he answered. "Nothing."

"Nothing." Qui-Gon repeated. "You have nothing that would make you react as badly as I have. Nothing to break down, or hells, _cry _over."

Guardedly, Ullo shook his head.

"So what have you to rejoice for?"

Ullo expected there to be more, for him to be beaten down in the blind ire of Jinn, but the towering man turned away then.

It was silence that met the night.

But there wasn't so much as a semblance of quiet within Ullo's mind.

()

The dark was dense when the Jedi were pulled from their separate, equally profound reveries.

Obi-Wan, immobile for so long, suddenly began to spasm.

Qui-Gon knew that this time, it was not in response to a fitful dream. He laid the convulsing body on the ground, and pressed his palm down on the sweating forehead. "Grab his legs. Keep them down!" He barked.

Ullo wrapped his fingers around Obi-Wan's ankles and held them firmly in place.

Qui-Gon has straddled his apprentice in order to pin the flailing arms while stopping his head from knocking.

Obi-Wan fought, albeit involuntarily, the efforts to restrain him.

"What can we do?" Ullo shouted.

In a strained voice, Qui-Gon responded, "We wait it out."

And that's what they did. For several minutes of unparalleled agony, they weighed the seizure down, fresh perspiration dripping from their faces.

Finally, Obi-Wan was still again.

Qui-Gon remained in place, cautious.

Ullo's hands loosened. He gathered a breath. "Is he alright?"

The answer wasn't what he predicted. "Oh _gods._" Qui-Gon's eyes were wide with polished, gleaming terror. He wiped the stream of dark blood from Obi-Wan's lip, where he had bit down during the paroxysm. Obi-Wan _was _still. Completely. Perfectly.

Not even his chest moved.

()

Obi-Wan wanted to thank whatever entity it was that decided to show him mercy, and block him from the pain that until recently was threatening to destroy him.

He wanted to shout his rapture. At last he could wallow in numbness, collapse in unfeeling sleep.

And be at peace.

()

Ullo's stomach clenched. "Qui-Gon, what is it?"

Qui-Gon shook his head, pressing his ear against Obi-Wan's chest.

"Oh gods." Ullo's heart careened into his roiling belly. "Is he-"

"No." The Master rasped, still shaking his head. "No, he can't be. This can't be." He crossed his hands and pumped the unmoving chest. His hair whipped in the frenzied effort. "Padawan _stay with me_."

Crouched at the feet of the fading apprentice, Ullo was struck into a near-catatonic state. The Force was overwhelmed with Qui-Gon's emotions.

Fear. Desperation.

But above all, there was love. It was love that fueled the man, as he worked tirelessly at resuscitation.

Qui-Gon tilted Obi-Wan's head and forced air into the slack lips, pinching his nose shut to prevent it from escaping.

Obi-Wan's face remained a cloud of white and slate.

Qui-Gon tried again. And again.

Ullo fell forward, and had to throw out his arms to stop himself from connecting with the ground, as the onslaught of pain from the Force made itself known.

()

Serenity.

Obi-Wan had thought he knew the meaning of the word.

__

Now he would truly know. A lovely calm surrounded him, stroking him with silken, ethereal fingers.

He was submerged further. He didn't resist. He could feel an energy enter him, purely light, unbelievably strong.

It was more than he ever imagined.

He wouldn't let it go.

()

The large, age-worn hands stopped, and slowly moved from the slender chest to the midsection, then to Qui-Gon's own face.

The scream that tore through the jungle night lacerated Ullo's shields, leaving a wound that bled thickly of grief and infuriation.

Strands of gray were plastered to Qui-Gon's forehead. His skin was glistening, flushed an angry red. And his head would not stop shaking, refusing to believe. He smoothed Obi-Wan's hair.

"Obi-Wan, Padawan, come back to me. Obi-Wan.." His voice was faint, lost. His fingers brushed across the pale face. "Obi-Wan, hear me. You must hear me Padawan come back to me."

He drew the body against his chest, cradling Obi-Wan's head. The hood fell. "Padawan, please."

Through his tears, Ullo saw something strange. "Qui-Gon…"

Of course, the man could not hear him, entirely consumed.

Ullo scrambled over to them. He narrowed his eyes and frowned. "Qui-Gon, his neck. There's something on his neck."

Qui-Gon looked at him, his face a miserable, tearful ruin. "What?"

"Something bit him. Th-There's a bite." Ullo gingerly touched an inflamed patch of skin on the back of Obi-Wan's neck. A small, barely perceptible sting wound had punctured the soft flesh. "A bad one."

Qui-Gon's eyes were unblinking. "The hypospray?"

Ullo immediately rummaged through the contents of his pack. In addition to the generic medicinal syrup, every Jedi also carried an injection that could halt, or at least weaken, the effects of most allergic reactions. He pulled out the clear hypo. "Give it to him?"

Qui-Gon nodded.

Ullo rolled up Obi-Wan's sleeve and pressed the needle against the crux of his arm. Whispering a silent prayer to the Force, he released the drug into the Padawan's bloodstream.

()

Obi-Wan despaired, as a small tingle of pain made its way through the void. The enormous power welled inside him began to wilt.

__

No. He couldn't understand. _What's happening? _What would take him away from the serenity?

__

Padawan. Padawan please. Can you hear me?

Obi-Wan almost smiled. _Master. Master. _He was separated from the sweet oblivion and uplifting strength, it was beyond him again, so he reached out for that voice, that wonderfully familiar voice, and latched on.

()

Qui-Gon held the limp body in his arms, unable to move, unwilling to breathe, until Obi-Wan did so.

A thousand thoughts flitted across his mind, shards of memory, hopes for the future. But without the grace and wonder of his apprentice, they would fester inside him—for he would never instill hope in anything again.

Ullo watched the still features of Obi-Wan, unbelieving that mere days before, this lifeless figure had been full of brilliance and the promise of youth. He felt the first cold tears course down his skin, and didn't attempt to dry them.

It would take a few moments for the inoculation to spread and do its work.

__

Do we have even THAT long? Ullo wondered darkly.

Qui-Gon's entire body trembled as he clutched for patience…for sanity. _This must work. It must._

But his words fell to deaf ears, it seemed. Time progressed like a sleepy animal, moving slowly, unaware of the world crumbling around him. And once enough of it had passed, Qui-Gon sealed his eyes.

__

NO. NO…it can't be.

Ullo secured a hand firmly to his arm, to steady him.

Qui-Gon couldn't feel the vice-like fingers. Instead, his realm of sensation was limited to pain. Obliterating pain. A hurricane tearing ruthlessly through his soul.

__

I couldn't even say good-bye I couldn't feel him he couldn't feel me through the Force and now…and now…

Ullo had to look away, his weeping eyes finding Obi-Wan.

Qui-Gon had mentioned that Yoda expected much from the boy.

__

He never could've expected this. A lump was lodged in the Knight's throat as more tears cascaded down his face.

He noticed that Obi-Wan's eyes were still slightly open, uncovered by the lids, glassy and staring at nothing.

With shaking fingers, Ullo reached out and closed them.

A tiny, frustrated grunt was the reaction.

The Knight gasped. Those eyes were struggling to open again, the blue lips trying to form words.

"Dear Force…gods..Qui-Gon." His own lips were numb with the shock, but he was able to call to the Master in a wavering voice.

Qui-Gon didn't answer him. But he didn't need to. At that moment, in the silent, shredded bowels of the jungle, Obi-Wan took a sharp inhale of air.

Qui-Gon's eyes flew open. He took in the half-open eyes, gleaming up at him with their luminescent, cerulean clarity. "Obi-Wan?"

A very faint shade of red drifted over the young pallor, giving flush where there had been the pale cast of death.

"M-Master?"

Both Jedi would agree, that in that moment, the word became the most beautiful, precious word ever uttered.

Qui-Gon's mouth quivered, but he nodded. "Yes, Padawan. I-It's me. St-Stay wit me now." He threaded his fingers with Obi-Wan's, and nearly broke down when his grip was returned.

"The hypo must've worked." Ullo concluded hoarsely.

Qui-Gon nodded, tears running down his face, spilling onto his apprentice's.

So many tears, he saw. Dropping in great rushes on Obi-Wan's cheeks and forehead and chin.

Ullo felt the small splashes against his shoulders and back. He looked up.

It was raining.

()


	6. Chapter Six

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Insane Jedi Girl Thank you! And as far as pointers, I'd say to make sure your grammar is decent. Also, summaries need to be eye-catching in some way. Mine aren't ever that great, which is why some of my stories get ignored. And remember, especially at tfn, that being a reader on various stories can help you get readers for your own fics. Good luck!

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Confused11 I worry that Qui-Gon might not be believable, so thank you for the compliment!

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Restless-soul Here ya go! And sorry it's a little late.

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Kynstar Wow. If you were crying over _this, _I wonder what you would've done if I really would have killed him off! Hee hee..

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Name1 Yes, he lives! I don't know why everyone suspected me of having bloodlust for Obi's character. Lust, yes, but not for his blood…

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SFGirl Yikes! That story's kinda freaky! But thank goodness it wasn't that serious! Thank you so much for your reply.

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Athena Leigh Thank you.

()

It was raining.

From the heavens, from a place whose existence had been seriously questioned during this tumultuous mission, jewels of silver descended, gleaming bright in the darkness.

When they reached earth, they splintered, bouncing off in all directions. Their sound was soft, so it did not mask the grateful weeping of Qui-Gon Jinn.

He drew Obi-Wan into his arms, rocking absently, their temples pressed together.

In a matter of minutes, their hair was soaked, their tunics waterlogged.

Wet strands of black dangled in Ullo's eyes, and he smoothed them back, to reveal those eyes were stained red—and apparently, subject to the rain, for moisture was welled in them.

Qui-Gon rested his lips against Obi-Wan's forehead. "Thank the Force. I could never let you go, my Padawan." He choked on the next words, "I-I simply love you too much."

Water ran down the young Jedi's face, but he smiled. "I couldn't leave."

Qui-Gon wiped Obi-Wan's brow and cheeks, struggling to maintain even a weak façade of composure.

He didn't care, only seconds later, when he failed miserably.

Ullo's gaze traveled from the reunion of sorts to the dampening jungle, the water pooling in the leaves and the muddy ground.

He grinned breathlessly. "It's a damn miracle."

Qui-Gon swallowed hard and framed his apprentice's face with his hands. "Yes," He traced the beloved features, "It is."

()

It was nearly an hour later before they resumed their journey.

Ullo was _very _hesitant to be the dark cloud over their celebration, but he was forced to remind Qui-Gon that the serum was probably not a permanent solution, and haste was still required.

Qui-Gon nodded, and began to stand.

Obi-Wan protested that he could walk, but the Master took in the ravaged body and pallid skin, and ignored the argument.

They had cleared a full mile before Qui-Gon turned to Ullo. "It's raining, isn't it?"

Ullo frowned, chuckling. "Yeah. You didn't notice?"

A small smile, at his lips and kindled in his eyes. "Actually, no. My attention was consumed elsewhere."

The Knight shook his head in amazement, but surprisingly, didn't speak his reaction. Obi-Wan's partial recovery had eased the stress between them, and the former sparks of anger had blackened and died.

Ullo didn't resent Qui-Gon's efforts to direct him towards a Padawan anymore. From their few days together, he knew that the man didn't take the role of a Master lightly and indeed, would not suggest the title to _anyone _without inspiration.

Thankfully, he wouldn't have time to examine that too closely.

Not until they completed the mission, anyway.

Qui-Gon studied their changed surroundings. "Very interesting." He murmured.

Ullo glanced at him. "What?"

The Master wet his lips. "I'm not sure. It may be nothing but…" He shook his head, "If precipitation was even _slightly _in the forecast for this section of Eume'Li, do you think they would have taken the time to dispatch Jedi?"

The question hung in the rain-sweetened air, ominous and a tad unsettling.

()

Two hours more found them at the outskirts of the capital. The buildings were all composed of a dull tan material, with steel outlining the structures, windows and doors. The streets were far from those of the crowded Coruscant, but not as deserted as others Qui-Gon had encountered in his lifetime.

In so many ways, Eume'Li was a place of mediocrity, where not even the Force could glean much rapture. Qui-Gon hoped their assignment would be finished quickly. Even if this planet were the personification of beauty, it remained the place where his Padawan nearly lost his life…and so Qui-Gon wanted to be on their transport ship as soon as possible.

At a cross section of roads, the Jedi stopped. Their clothes were dried in the sun, since the rain had petered out as they neared civilization.

"You should take him to the hospital." Ullo suggested. "I'll go on, to meet with the officials."

Qui-Gon's expression was stoic. "That won't work. They'll be expecting, at least, the leader. And, as the only Master, I'll have to be the one."

Regret was carved into his very being, but he carefully handed the sleeping form of Obi-Wan to Ullo's waiting arms.

"I'll be there fast as I can." Qui-Gon assured him. With a lasting look at his apprentice, he headed for the capital.

Ullo watched him go, then turned toward a collection of buildings. He had been in charge of navigation, and prior to the mission memorized the main points of the city.

The hospital was close. Briskly, he moved toward it.

()

Qui-Gon stood at the huge double doors to the Eume'Li capital house. Whereas most other buildings were featureless, the faux, manufactured wood surface of these doors displayed delicate carvings of the planet's motto in several languages.

With a finger, he traced the looping lines.

__

Eume'Li. Wander to the fringe, wander to the edge, but home this will always be.

"Hm." Qui-Gon stepped back, crossing his arms. It was slightly relieving to uncover a bit of culture, although he would have suggested a different greeting for the planet.

__

Welcome to Hell. If you can't escape, stay awhile.

The Master swallowed the harsh chuckle tingling in his throat. _Sounds like something Obi-Wan would say. _The humor was stilled in his eyes then, as his purpose here was renewed—especially his need to speedily carry out that purpose.

He knew Knight Tirr was a capable guardian for his Padawan. The innate compassion of the man struck Qui-Gon immediately upon their meeting. Really, the Master was shocked that Ullo had yet to accept an apprentice. He would make a very effective mentor for any young student, as soon as he permitted himself to not only acknowledge, but _accept _that fact.

__

And he'll take good care of Obi-Wan until I can join them. The inner assurance was delivered in a solid, doubtless voice. Qui-Gon inhaled steadily, straightening his body.

But the despair-wrought images of his Padawan, lying among the grit , his skin pale wax and his lips stained an ugly, bruised blue would not relent, not even as Jedi obligation led him inside the building.

Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on your perspective), Qui-Gon reminded himself, all Jedi had to be Masters of multitasking.

A human male of about fifty years approached him, dressed in thick, green, velvety robes. He was well-fed, with a deteriorating cap of gray hair. "You must be the Jedi." The man said, his brown eyes flickering just past Qui-Gon. He frowned. "I was informed there would be three of you."

Qui-Gon would have buried his hands in the opposite arms of his robe, but he realized that piece of clothing was still wrapped around Obi-Wan, so he gave a short nod. "Yes. During our travel in the jungles, there _were _three of us. But my student was stung by an insect that later revealed a serious allergy. He was at the brink of death," He focused on the man's indifferent face, trying to steer his mind's eye from that terrible moment, the absence of life within Obi-Wan's body, "Thankfully, we were able to reverse the reaction. He's receiving medical attention, accompanied by Jedi Knight Ullo Tirr.

"And I'm Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn." He bowed. "I apologize for the delay. Our communication malfunctioned, or else we would have alerted Eume'Li officials at once."

The man appraised him for a handful of seconds, lips drawn out in a thin line. Then he sighed. "Well, there's nothing that can be done about it _now. _You're late and our patience has rapidly expired. Our planet's in crisis, if you weren't aware, and the plight of one child is insignificant in comparison." He squared his heavily padded shoulders. "This way. The others are waiting for you."

Qui-Gon could barely hear the instruction, his heart thundered so loudly and with such fury. He could not comprehend how someone could trivialize the suffering, the life and death of another, a 'child' as he said…one sent to this very planet to aid these sniveling imbeciles!

But anger could not heat him when coolness was required. After all, the Council would not view this mission as anything remotely resembling a success if all the Eume'Li officials' heads were lopped off by an emerald saber.

__

My apprentice. Qui-Gon nearly smiled as he followed the man into the depths of the building. _Your wicked wit has become so much my own._

He glanced at his sour, silent companion. _I'll need to thank you for that._

()

Ullo crossed his legs and rested his chin on his hand.

The hospital was lightly populated, and he was able to procure a private room for his temporary charge.

The physician had examined Obi-Wan briskly with an air of unrelenting professionalism. He swabbed the bite wound with a bacta solution and identified the culprit as a microscopic organism that usually found sustenance in animal carcass. And while it seemed to be high times for someone possessing such a palate, it still preferred its meals from living dishes. To disarm the prey, the insect inserted its stinger.

For some reason, the little thing had believed it would be a conquering adversary of an opponent about a million times its size.

Obi-Wan's movements scared it off, but the damage to his system had been done.

The healer prescribed a moderate amount of bed rest and started Obi-Wan on an i.v. to rejuvenate his drained body.

The apprentice was asleep, a thin sheet draped over him.

Ullo watched his chest rise and fall with each soft breath. It boggled the mind to consider what shape the kid had been in a mere day before. Back then, the Knight had been uttering private prayers, even preparing for that tragic instance when those breaths would cease.

Sanity was a distant memory, a mountain oft-trekked that grew too rocky, with too many obstacles to overcome, with he himself unequipped.

Now he returned to the craggy face, the base of his life.

And nothing felt quite the same.

Something had changed inside him. He had never experienced the cold snap of pure panic before. Nothing was worth the abandonment it would take. And though he scarcely knew this apprentice, _he was_ worth it. And much more.

Ullo shifted in his seat. Who held the voice of these musings? Surely they were the residual echoes of Jinn, those perturbing hints at Mastership.

He _knew _he wasn't cut out for this intense worry.

Ullo saw the absolute, unbridled devastation in Qui-Gon's eyes.

He could _never _handle that. Not even the possibility of it.

The blanket rustled, and the Knight turned to see Obi-Wan twisting restlessly, his brows knitted.

Ullo leaned forward and tucked the cloak, Qui-Gon's cloak, closer around the slender form. "There." He whispered. "It's alright, kiddo."

Obi-Wan gradually settled, his feet sliding down the cot so his legs stretched out again, and his back laid flat.

Ullo's palm was cool against the still-warm forehead.

Obi-Wan's eyes fought to open. His hair was wilted and plastered to his temples. He looked at Tirr. "My Master?"

Ullo lifted his hand, and offered Obi-Wan a gentle, nervous smile. "He's at the capital. He hated having to go, but it was best for a Master to represent us."

"Oh." Obi-Wan nodded, then winced at the slight pain that spiked in his neck and head.

Ullo's expression was strikingly similar. "Are you alright?"

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and took a breath. "Yeah. I think I just—I think I just need a minute."

Wordlessly, the Knight reached out and replaced his palm on Obi-Wan's forehead. In the course of a second, the discomfort had dissipated.

Obi-Wan lifted his eyelids, his gaze tired, but shining with gratefulness. "Thank you."

Ullo only nodded.


	7. Chapter Seven

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Confused11 Thank you!

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Athena Leigh His humor is kind of like mine (although I'm a bit sillier than him!) so I just try to picture what he'd say in my mind. I'm glad you like it!

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Kynstar I can never escape these OC fic inquiries! Hee hee. I hope that I can satisfy your guys' curiosity about this character, but I have to admit, it's a really daunting task. I don't want to disappoint!

()

"That is an interesting claim, Master Jinn. But I hope you don't resent my hesitancy to believe it."

Qui-Gon looked at the appointed weather specialist with weariness. He could describe the jungle's sudden rainfall in a single way.

And he couldn't _explain _it in any way at all. So to start an involved argument with the man would be useless and worse, time consuming.

"It rained for hours. The proof is in the jungle."

The man, baby-faced with a medium build, put his hands on his hips, shook his head. "I'm an expert forecaster. Nowhere in even the distant future did I expect rainfall. If a shower was nearing, _why _would the Senate rush you out here?"

Qui-Gon searched the other man's face for a sign of deception. After all, Eume' Li had given him no reason to trust its inhabitants. But honesty was all he read from the forecaster. Honesty, confusion—and a great deal of irritation.

To which Qui-Gon could relate. "I've been pondering that same question myself." He looked down, pursing his lips. When he ascended his eyes again, a determined cast overtook his features, one that Obi-Wan would have recognized immediately, "As well as another.

"Why would you care so little about your planet's 'crisis' that you would not investigate our apparent disappearance? Furthermore, why is there no radar device set up to detect alterations in the weather?"

The older gentlemen, Maw'Lon, who guided Qui-Gon through the building stepped forward. His brow was stretched severely over his eyes. "We are a simple planet, Master Jinn. We haven't the sophisticated technology of your beloved Coruscant." A splash of venom from his tongue. "And we have no desire for it."

"I see." Qui-Gon replied with smooth inflection. His eyes trailed the short line of Eume'Li executives. "Your _desire_ seems devoted to something else entirely.

"Greed and selfishness are better suited to misguided delinquents, not the rulers of a planet."

The man's eyes widened in ire. "What in the seven hells—"

Qui-Gon put up his hand. And while his adversary appeared ready to launch into a tirade, the action halted any movement. "I have completed my task here. I have seen the dried ruins of your jungle. And despite the rain, it's still at major risk. The lingering danger will be addressed in the official report I will distribute to the Jedi Council and the Senate—among _other _things."

A smirk from Maw'Lon. "This isn't about a misuse of funds." He glanced at his fellow officials, then focused sharply on Qui-Gon again. "You're bitter about the incident involving your protégé. But the fault does not lie with us, Master Jinn. If anything, it is _your _fault, and your student's, for being ill-prepared to tackle the jungle."

Qui-Gon could feel the furious tension swelling in his fingers, but he resisted the urge to ball them into fists. "You stray from the topic at hand. Forgive my mentioning of it, but your planet is well known in the Senate for their misuse of funds in the past. Your motives seemed pure this time around, and I'm disappointed—_disgusted_—to discover that the best interests of your planet are still resigned to the backburner.

"So do not be surprised, sirs, if your disaster relief package comes complete with a new 'financial overseer' to aid your world."

Tossing away every attempt at niceties, Qui-Gon forewent his customary Jedi bow and wheeled around, stalking from the room.

()

Obi-Wan laid his head back on the pillow. It was like nestling on a cloud borrowed from Heaven, after days of being jostled and writhing on gritty ground.

Most of his memory of the journey was comprised of half-dreams from a fog of ether, probably brought on by the heat and pain. Ironic that it was while he floated through that place that he came to understand the words he heard uttered in meditation.

The destiny that was in peril of shifting was not the jungle's, but his own. _His _life force nearly winked out, had winked out for that brief moment.

At the time, he was filled with otherworldly power such as he couldn't comprehend. At least now, he couldn't. It didn't seem plausible, to be so completely taken by energy.

Obi-Wan knew that no one, not even his Master, could contain that sort of power, on this living plane.

__

Death brings strength. The thought entered his head before he could block it, and a tendril of ice squirmed through his stomach.

"The doctor said you should be out of here in a few hours." Knight Tirr's voice invaded his reflections, and Obi-Wan gladly set them aside, in order to smile his reply.

Ullo heaved a sigh. "So we have _some _good news after this ordeal."

Obi-Wan sat up, taking on a somber tone. "I apologize. I know I've caused a horrendous delay to the mission."

Ullo looked at him, then shook his head with a chuckle. "Is this what the Order does to its kids? Programs them to apologize for what's out of their control?"

He saw the flush that colored the apprentice's cheeks, and regretted his observation. Ullo cleared his throat. "Sorry, Obi-Wan. I think this assignment's taken a lot out of all of us." He squeezed a cloaked arm. "But maybe we can view this in a different light."

Obi-Wan tilted his head slightly, curious.

"I think this mission's also _given _each of us something to take away."

"What?"

The dark eyes went distant for a beat, then returned to the Padawan's waiting face. "I…I've never really understood why Masters take on apprentices. I mean, I know that in order to move up the 'chain' you must train a pupil, but take your Master, for instance. He already raised a Padawan to Knighthood when he took his second. It wasn't required for him to teach another, but he still did it."

A shadow crossed Obi-Wan's countenance. "Sometimes the Force draws you to someone." He said in a strange monotone. "Master Qui-Gon was drawn to his second apprentice."

"And to you." Ullo pointed out.

Obi-Wan's eyes took on a sullen appearance that he quickly blinked away.

But Ullo was perceptive enough to catch the variation. He frowned. "What? You don't believe Qui-Gon was drawn to you as he was drawn to his second apprentice?"

Obi-Wan moistened his lips, using the pause to gather himself. "I believe that sometimes, a Master can feel magic when he sees an initiate. The Master just _knows _that will be his future apprentice. That's how it was with his second apprentice," He couldn't bear to speak the name, "I've heard enough stories to know that."

"So you don't think magic was involved with _your _meeting?"

Obi-Wan's smile was a little strained. "If by magic, you mean luck."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean Qui-Gon was never drawn to me. There was too much hesitance, even after…" Obi-Wan looked away and swallowed. "Circumstances rose that I've always attributed to luck. We were put on the same ship, going to different places on the same planet. We were thrown together for an adventure and I put my life at stake to save his."

Ullo watched him closely, and spoke quietly, unobtrusively. "So you think your apprenticeship was a way for him to say 'thank you'?"

Obi-Wan didn't say more.

"Hells," Ullo exclaimed, "He must've been damn grateful to you, kid."

Obi-Wan felt a familiar twist in his heart and closed his eyes. He _really _didn't want to talk about it anymore. It was hard enough pushing it to the cobwebs every morning, when he woke and just for a second thought himself an intruder in Qui-Gon's life.

It was worse torture than anything else he could imagine.

"You _do _know that that's a load of garbage, right? Underneath your defenses, you know that, don't you?"

Obi-Wan resisted the alarm, the annoyance that shot up his body. He barely knew Ullo Tirr, but the man was going to tell him how he felt? "If I did, do you think I would…" He shook his head. "I'm tired, Knight Tirr. You won't mind if I sleep awhile now?"

"Actually, I would." Ullo moved from his chair to sit on the side of the bed. "I know you weren't aware of what was going on around you these past few days, but _I_ was. I witnessed every minute of what your Master was going through while you were sick."

Despite his contention with the claim, Obi-Wan looked at Ullo's olive-tinted face, framed by ebony hair.

It was dead serious.

"I've seen a lot of ugly stuff, Obi-Wan. As a Jedi, I've seen terrible things that ripped my heart out. But what I saw in that jungle pales everything else in comparison. Your Master was _out of his mind_ with worry. And when he wasn't struck silent by it, he talked about how much you meant to him.

"If you can't even believe that, believe _this._ At this moment, I _know _why Masters have apprentices." He stared into Obi-Wan's eyes. "And I know why, deep down, I've wanted an apprentice all along.

"That's what I've learned on this mission, Obi-Wan. And I hope that now, you've learned some things as well."

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to respond, to say _something_ to this man who had revealed more than he was willing to accept…

But then his Master came through the doorway.

Qui-Gon looked haggard, spent. When he saw Obi-Wan, awake and alert, he smiled, his eyes fairly glowing.

Ullo stood. "What happened at the capital?"

Qui-Gon crossed his arms. "Exactly what I predicted."

"Which was…?"

The Master's expression hardened. "Thanklessness. And selfish undertones. I'll explain later. The transport's waiting for us."

Ullo quirked his lip. "I thought we weren't scheduled for departure until tomorrow."

"Well, plans change." Qui-Gon clapped the Knight's shoulders. "Would you inform the Council we're underway?"

"Of course." Ullo glanced at Obi-Wan meaningfully, then left the room.

Qui-Gon waited for the door to close, then sat beside his apprentice. It was the first time either Jedi had seen each other, now that the dust was settled and Obi-Wan's health was totally restored. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to revel in the calm, his Padawan's vivacious spirit encircling him .

Great effort was put forth in order for the deadly poison to be purged from Obi-Wan's system—most of that work was left to the young man himself, manifested in the shadow ringing his eyes.

But despite his obvious exhaustion, Obi-Wan smiled. "I take it you didn't receive a warm reception at the capital."

"Not hardly." The simmer of outrage was dimmed in Qui-Gon's eyes, stifled beneath a layer of twinkling affection. He looked at his apprentice with wonder, as if Obi-Wan were an angel dropped from the sky.

And, in a way, the Master decided it was true, for this man-child before him had separated from the living world, if only for a moment. That Obi-Wan was now before him, whole and breathing, was almost more than he could thank the Force for.

Because he had already devoted his entire heart to the task.

"They will still require a relief grant, won't they?"

Qui-Gon blinked, then shook his head. "If I can be honest with you, Padawan, I couldn't care less."

Obi-Wan swallowed his shock. "Master?"

The man smiled, and fine lines streaked the skin around his eyes. "I think this mission's left us a little worn out—I haven't the energy for euphemism. I hope the jungle will be replenished, but I have no good feeling towards Eume'Li." With his thumb, he touched the dimple on Obi-Wan's chin. "I'm eager to leave."

"I noticed." The apprentice smirked, then sobered, a crease appearing between his brows. "I can't help but think I could have prevented the entire mess. I never registered the bite. If you and Knight Tirr wouldn't have been there—"

"Hush now." Qui-Gon moved his hand up to Obi-Wan's mouth, pressing a finger to it. "It's my duty to protect you."

Obi-Wan stared at him, his eyes kindling a measure of uncertainty and embarrassment. "I-I think I threw up on you."

The older Jedi laughed. "There's an old adage in the Order. It goes something like 'to care for someone is to know them at their worst, and still wish them the best'. I'm just thankful that you're here, Obi-Wan. The rest…it doesn't matter at all." He leaned forward and gathered his Padawan into an embrace.

Obi-Wan buried his face in a shoulder.

Qui-Gon held him tight, doing his best to keep the haunt of the jungle from his mind. Everything would be alright now.

The proof of that was in his arms.

"Don't frighten me like that again." He murmured in Obi-Wan's ear. "It was enough to last a lifetime—and more."

Ullo's words replayed in Obi-Wan's head. He had not expected such open emotion from his Master. He knew that Qui-Gon had been concerned, but not _frightened. _Obi-Wan had always thought the rogue's reputation to be somewhat factual: that at his core, he could not be shaken.

But there was no mistaking the remnants of alarm in Qui-Gon's voice. Obi-Wan could feel the—was it rapture?—pouring from his teacher's aura.

Obi-Wan sealed his eyes before the tears could make their descent. Nearly dying was a stinging blow to the balance he always upheld in his life.

Yet _this_, this was the event which he knew, underneath his reserve and defenses, would change him most of all.

()


	8. Chapter Eight

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Name1 Thanks for the review!

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Kynstar It's so wonderful of you to leave reviews at both places…that just blows me away. And I'm so, so glad you're enjoying.

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Ewan's girl I know what you mean about forgetting to leave reviews. A few times I've read a post, then when the next one comes around I get confused because the author hasn't left a reply to my review…then I remember I didn't leave one in the first place!

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CYN I think I know the subject that was floating around that place around the time you left. I tried very hard to ignore it, but then it was starting to tick off some good friends of mine, intelligent people that approached the situation with what I thought were some very valid points. And of course, a few certain someones dominated it, without a hint of the grace that others involved showed. It really ticks me off that people can't just get along for the sake of _fun_, which was what I thought that place was about…Well, I shouldn't say any more, or my head might explode…You should know that a lot of people over there miss you, though. Myself included! And thank you for the kind words. I think you know that coming from you, that means a tremendous amount to me. I hope life lightens up for you.

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Athena Leigh Oh gosh. Thanks so much for the compliments! This has been a very interesting story for me to write, because it's not within my normal style, I guess you could say. Plus, the addition of an OC, which I usually steer clear of. Thank you again!

()

Dusk was drifting down in pale radiance, leaving tinges of shadow as the speeder came to a stop in front of the Palle'Ti hangar.

Qui-Gon sat up with smooth, quick composure. His meditation had been shallow—even troubled, and privately, he was glad to reenter full awareness. He felt Obi-Wan's head on his shoulder, and shifted slightly toward him, loathe to wake the exhausted young man.

Ullo's eyes, darkened to jade in the fading light of day, settled on him. "Do you need some help?"

"I'll be fine." The Master smiled, climbing out of the vehicle and collecting Obi-Wan in his arms.

Ullo followed suit. He thanked the driver with a few credits, then moved to join Qui-Gon in observation of their new transport.

Both Jinn and Tirr had seen ships _dripping _in opulence, high on the scale of grandeur and decadence.

This was _not _one of those. The _GenTrav III_ was a small vessel, multi-colored due to borrowed parts from other sips, with a beaten body.

"_GenTrav III _huh?" Ullo remarked with a smirk.

"I'm guessing that stands for 'General Travel'."

"Wow," The Knight's voice glittered with sarcasm, "Third in what must be a breathtaking series."

Qui-Gon laughed. "Now, before we encounter broken sinks and other…charming flaws, let my apologize." The humor drained from his fatigue-worn face. "I just-I just needed to be as far from here as possible, as soon as possible."

Ullo shrugged, leading the way up the rickety ramp. "Can't blame you there. A quicksand bath on Tatooine would've been preferable to this."

Qui-Gon didn't respond to the quip. His focus skimmed the Eume'Li landscape, and he wondered if it were possible to hate something that was, realistically, innocent of the evils and tragedy that occurred on its soil.

But, in the emotional upheaval of death threatening life, one rarely paused to consider the logic of what churned in one's mind.

"I'll alert the pilot we're ready to go." Ullo told him softly, sensing the other's need to be alone.

Qui-Gon stared out at the newborn night. A stale wind was picking up, buffeting the tree leaves and whipping his hair across his neck. He was glad that the jungle was far past his limits of vision. He didn't know if he could endure another glance at the shriveled shell that nearly cost Obi-Wan, and Qui-Gon, everything.

Obi-Wan stirred, bringing his teacher back to the present.

Funny. Usually, it was Qui-Gon warning _him_ to stay in the moment.

With one last, bland look, he stepped back inside the transport and sealed the hatch.

If only it were that simple, Qui-Gon reflected wearily, to also close this dark chapter of their lives.

()

There was a humble common area and a single sleeping quarters. The interior was dully lit, a welcome change from the blinding glare of the sun.

Qui-Gon walked into the bedroom. He didn't bother to switch on a glow rod, carrying Obi-Wan to one of the two cots. The mattress was covered by worn, fuzzy green material, but it couldn't hide the lumps.

Then again, he would take an uneven mattress over a plastic hospital chair any day.

Qui-Gon pulled the blanket back and with great care, laid Obi-Wan out on the bed. For a moment, he felt abruptly cold, separated from him even by this small length. He looked down at the sleeping face, and it was like fingers gripping around his heart.

He made himself break that contact, and went about removing Obi-Wan's belt and boots. He set them in a pile beside the bed.

Qui-Gon stood above Obi-Wan then, watching his eyes pulse beneath the lids, hearing his breath.

It was a familiar scene. From the time he was a boy, Qui-Gon had checked on Obi-Wan as he slumbered. Sometimes, it was because their mission brought them to dangerous worlds, where peril surrounded them constantly. In other instances, there was really no discernable reason at all.

But never before had cold moisture stung his eyes and streamed down his cheeks. Before this day, he had worried about pride.

Qui-Gon leaned down and pressed his nose against Obi-Wan's soft, bristled hair, inhaling deeply. "My Padawan." He whispered, tried to swallow the coming sob. "Too close, my Padawan."

()

The engine thrummed beneath Ullo's feet. The windows were now painted in the black of deep space. The Knight sighed. _At last. _It was one thing to talk about leaving, to anticipate the moment of lift-off.

It was quite another to witness it _actually _happening.

There were numerous assignments with rotten ends, experiences that Ullo chose to forget. He found himself lusting for return to the Temple, for a sense of normalcy and routine.

Tonight, as Eume'Li became another dot in a distant scattering of pinpoints, he knew that this mission sent those others spiraling into mediocrity. There were meant to be tests, of course, in the life and work of a Jedi. Situations that tried their patience, skill—or their loyalty to the Order itself.

__

Sure. Give me a million of those. I'll suffer through them just fine. His footsteps slowed. _Just don't do THIS to me again._

He stretched his arms and mouth with a yawn. At least one thing on this little trash heap couldn't disappoint him…He would sleep on a pile of jagged rocks tonight, so a hard or flat bed wouldn't be rejected.

Ullo walked into the sleeping quarters—and paused.

Qui-Gon was sitting on the edge of a cot, his elbows leaning on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

The Knight swallowed. It would be very easy to approach this as an awkward situation, tip toe to his own cot and quietly go to sleep, back turned away from the man.

But never once had Master Jinn turned from him. And as difficult as this mission was for Ullo, it was mind-shattering for Qui-Gon.

"Qui-Gon?"

The Master was enclosed in the gray ambience of the room. His long mane hung around his shoulders and his back was bowed.

Ullo sat at the foot of his own bed and began taking off his boots. "You should talk about it." He said.

Qui-Gon took a shuddering breath, wiping his hand over his eyes and forehead. "He was dead, you know."

Ullo glanced quickly at Obi-Wan, then looked down at the floor. "I know."

"He was dead. And everything was so…still. His chest, his face. Everything. It was like holding a tainted memory. He didn't look like himself, his skin gray a-and his lips blue."

Qui-Gon's eyes met Ullo's, and they were welled with bright tears. "He was dead, and so was the Force. I couldn't feel it anymore. I didn't _want _to feel it, because it failed me. It failed h-him, to let him _die _when there was still so much he need to live for." He took another gasping breath, "And what was the cause? What took Obi-Wan from me? That damn insect. The healer told me it was no bigger than the edge of a fingernail.

"A little _speck_, and it had the power to take the life from my Padawan's body."

Ullo gripped Qui-Gon's shoulder. "But it didn't. We stopped it, Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan came back…hells, he brought the friggin' _rain_ with him."

But Qui-Gon couldn't smile. "_You_ stopped it. If you hadn't seen the mark on his neck, he wouldn't be here. I would've killed him."

Ullo launched to his feet and moved in front of Qui-Gon, his face intense. "That isn't true. And if you keep dwelling on it, it'll just kill _you_. Gods, what's _wrong_ with the two of you? Has there been a steady gas leak in your apartment?"

Qui-Gon frowned, genuine irritation surfacing on his reddened face. "What're you talking about?"

Ullo stepped back. "Here you are, torturing yourself about Obi-Wan, when just a few hours ago Obi-Wan was doing the same thing."

The resentment fled the Master. He sat up straighter and stared at the Knight. "What?"

Ullo hesitated. Would Obi-Wan want that deepest insecurity to be revealed? But, he decided, it was better than _both_ of them laboring under this enormous falsehood. "Basically, he said he felt like second class compared to your previous apprentice. He said there was a kind of 'magic' you felt with that Padawan that you didn't feel with him.

"He said your relationship was based on luck."

Qui-Gon's head slipped into his hands again. "Gods."

Ullo compressed his lips. "I'm sorry if it wasn't what you wanted to hear right now but I…I couldn't understand how two people who seemed so devoted to each other could be, well, so mistaken about some things."

"No." The rich voice was low, husky. "I-I'm glad you told me. I just wish _I _didn't understand." Qui-Gon stood. "Will you keep an eye on him for a minute?"

Ullo nodded. "Sure."

"Thanks." The Master walked from the room, a new sadness clinging to him.

The Knight watched him go, then slouched down on the corner of his bed. _A mind healer I'm not._

()

Ack! I hate when all this space gets left over when I convert a document! Well, I guess that this story's almost wrapped up…but wait, there's more! A few buds have been nagging me (winks at **Kynstar**) to write a sequel or companion piece to this, involving Ullo. So I guess I'll go from writing this to writing that. Thanks to those kind enough to read and review!


	9. Chapter Nine

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CYN I don't think I ever really understood what was going on with that thing in the WR. I usually only go to the Obi-Wan Workshop, so people were talking about the tension in the WR, and I didn't know what it was about. I only went into that notorious thread once, at the very beginning, to say I agreed with **dianethx**, who was against whatever changes they wanted to make.

Thank you for the compliments about the story. I'm so surprised and touched by the response to it. I've been nominated for a few awards but I never hold my breath or 'watch' the awards show. Thanks again, and have a great weekend.

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Isaldaria I understand the need to study. I hope you've done well with University and thank you for your reply!

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Shadowsage Hopesomg Thank you!

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Athena Leigh Ullo's rather blunt, isn't he? Thanks for reading, as always.

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Kynstar You're just unfailingly kind. Thank you for your comments and congrats on you well-deserved noms.

The Knight watched him go, then slouched down on the corner of his bed. _A mind healer I'm not._

There was rustling from the other cot, and he saw Obi-Wan, eyes barely open, staring at him.

Ullo's hands tensed for a passing moment. _And a delicate mind healer, I'm definitely not! _"Hey, kid. Uh, he just went out for a second-"

"I know." Obi-Wan murmured.

__

He knows? Dread plunged the Knight's stomach. "Were you awake?"

Obi-Wan struggled to sit upright, propping his back against the wall for support. "I knew he was upset."

"You did?"

"Mmhm. He wasn't doing very well hiding it. Usually he's shielded better. I've done my best to shield as well…he's beyond exhaustion. That's why he's acting like this."

"Are you sure?" Ullo motioned to the door with his head. "Because from what I've heard, he wasn't bent out of shape from lack of sleep."

Obi-Wan studied him for a few seconds with eyes that appeared perfectly still, but seemed to glimmer in every direction, taking in every detail. "You told him."

Ullo took a steady breath. He knew there was no need to clarify just _what _was told. "Yes, I did." _And I would do it again._

"You don't believe he's been through enough?" There was a careful measure of anger in the apprentice's tone. Very real, but very controlled. "After that disaster in the jungle, after his disagreement with the officials?"

"He's been through Hell, Obi-Wan. I wouldn't deny that." Ullo countered, determined to be gentle, noting the still-waxen cast of the young face. "But don't _you _believe you've been through just as much?"

The eyes didn't waver. "That's another subject entirely."

"Maybe. But do you believe it?"

"I believe that of all the pain dealt to us on this assignment, my Master has bore the brunt of it. And I believe you didn't help things by telling him what…what I said, in confidence, to you." There was a small break in the hard mask. "If anyone was ever to tell him, I should've been…" He shook his head. "How can I face him now? Now that he knows what I said?"

"I really don't think he's angry with you, Obi-Wan."

Obi-Wan picked pieces of lint from the blanket. It was a method he taught himself in the crèche: Channel your feelings to something which does not require them. But he couldn't help the frustration building in his chest. His voice was a little strained, "And what if he's angry with himself?"

"Then he'll work through it. _You'll_ work through it. The both of you."

"It would be better if he were just angry with me." Obi-Wan said in a borderline mumble.

Ullo took his chances, and sat beside the Padawan. "I'm sure he doesn't see it that way."

Obi-Wan brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head on them. "How would you know?" He wondered softly. "You hardly know him."

"That's true." The Knight canted his head to the side, so they were at eye-level. "But at the surface, it doesn't seem like _you_ know him at all."

()

There wasn't exactly a plethora of options for Qui-Gon on the cramped vessel, so he closed himself in the lavatory. Which, if his thoughts had been more leisurely, he would have immediately noticed resembled a tall, thin closet.

But his mind was absorbed…_spinning_ with bluntly-worded revelation. Qui-Gon leaned forward, gripping the cold rim of the sink.

__

Obi-Wan thinks he is inferior to Xanatos?

Acid bubbled from Qui-Gon's stomach to his throat. The yellowed artificial light radiated sickly around his face.

__

My Padawan believes he lives in shadow. A cold, ugly shadow at that.

He hung his head, not relishing the sight of his reflection.

__

And he was able to tell a near stranger—but not me.

So something had been between them after all, a frigid clamp that strangled their connection, disrupted the flow of their minds and souls. But then, what did he expect? The start of their relationship had not been smooth. The call of fate wasn't heard clearly, or right away. First, the rasping clamor of voices, cousins of conscience that wailed of betrayal and pains of the past, had to be quieted. And that wasn't easily accomplished, because he could admit, in the empty room, to himself, that the voices could be comforting. They sheltered him from new pain…but only because they obsessed him with the old.

Eventually, adamant refusal turned to reluctance.

And then, at last, acceptance.

There had been no such evolution required with his second apprentice. Xanatos was different.

In the end, that difference was the seam, the catch that was located by scrabbling fingers…and pulled Qui-Gon's world apart.

Obi-Wan was not so striking, without the sharp contrast of obsidian and alabaster, dark slashed against light. A clouded night.

Because Obi-Wan was light, untarnished by malevolence, the Dark. If ever Qui-Gon doubted _that_, the horrible moment in the Eume'Li jungle reinforced its truth. The light of his own heart was sucked away, taken in unison with what would have been Obi-Wan's last breath.

Qui-Gon didn't think life would have gone on much longer after that. And in that morbid assuredness lay the utter devotion-the love.

He himself knew it…but an old fool he remained, because Obi-Wan did not.

()

"That's ridiculous." Steel was worked into the facets of Obi-Wan's eyes. "Of course I know my Master."

Ullo smiled. "I never said you didn't. But at the _surface_, it would appear that way."

The questions were suspended in Obi-Wan's face, and in the air around them. He did not ask what Ullo meant; he waited for the answers.

"I think you know that he cares about you, Obi-Wan. This past day _alone_ should be enough to determine that. You said you heard our conversation just now, so you must have selective hearing, weeding out the good and leaving the bad." The Knight knew he would have to handle the next words carefully. "I think you know he cares, but it's better for you, safer or something, to believe he doesn't."

All of Obi-Wan was trembling, the moisture in his eyes, his hands, his heart.

Qui-Gon chose that moment to reappear in the doorway. Knight Tirr stood and sketched a short bow.

"Thank you, Ullo."

Ullo headed for his bed, then paused in his steps. "Are you alright?" He mouthed.

Qui-Gon gave a single, curt nod. He saw that Obi-Wan was awake, a beat later caught the morose gloss in his eyes…and knew.

He stopped in front of his apprentice. "Padawan, you should be asleep."

Obi-Wan didn't attempt to blink away the tears. If his Master already knew what he said, what he believed, then why masquerade any longer? "I'm sorry, Master." And there was so much to apologize for.

"Don't be sorry." Qui-Gon smoothed his hair back.

But more tears fell, faster, until Obi-Wan had to wipe them away with quivering fingers. It didn't help much. There were new tears to replace those.

Qui-Gon put an arm around his shoulders and sat beside him.

After a few minutes, "I-I didn't mean to-"

"Shh." Qui-Gon gently lowered them to the pillows. "We don't need to talk about that." Laying face to face a foot apart, he reached out and rubbed Obi-Wan's arm. "Not now, Padawan."

Obi-Wan looked into the eyes that carried him through storm. Eyes that, in their depths, always contained wisdom

Eyes that he never believed held much else, towards him.

A hand settled on his forehead, and Obi-Wan felt the soft suggestion of sleep impossible to ignore.

Qui-Gon withdrew his hand, pulled the blankets up around them.

"Sleep well, Master Jinn." Ullo's voice floated up from the dark.

"You too." The Master murmured.

"And thanks."

"For what?"

Ullo grinned. "For stealing the title of 'Best Master' before I ever had a freakin' chance."

Qui-Gon laughed. "I think you'll have your chance."

It was silent then, as both Jedi surrendered to sleep.

__

The End.

I've had mixed responses from people about the idea of a sequel, so I guess the final decision'll be up to me. I think I'll have to write one, though, since I already have a title I really like. THANKS to everyone who read and reviewed!


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